


Love Is An Anomaly (Not Science Nor Art)

by ann2who, morphia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Artist Steve Rogers, Consensual Underage Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mild Depictions Of War, Pining Tony Stark, Protective Steve Rogers, Secret Relationship, Steve Has Issues, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I see you've met our History of Art teacher Steve Rogers," Bruce said, pointedly eyeing Tony, who was still holding onto Steve's hand. "And Steve…" He turned to him with a smile that was a touch too pleasant. "…this is my seventeen year old assistant, Tony Stark."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Potential Energy

**Author's Note:**

> “There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”  
> — Vincent Van Gogh
> 
> morphia: Steve Rogers  
> ann2who: Tony Stark
> 
> Quick note: We are aware that 17 is legal in the US when it comes to age of consent, but we're going with it being illegal for the purpose of this storyline.

**“Art begins with resistance.”**

— André Gide

 

 

**Steve**

_"So. If we get out of this mess alive, what are you gonna do?"_

_Bucky grinned at Steve. They were taking cover at the moment, enemy fire heavy on them._

_"Really?" Steve asked, smiling ruefully as he loaded a new clip into his rifle. "We're having this conversation right now?" He pulled the lever and loaded a bullet into the barrel, before resting his head back. The helmet was heavy on his brow, his protective gear constricting. Bucky was quiet and looked at him expectantly, so Steve knew he wasn't getting away from this one._

_"Well, teaching could be nice, History of Arts maybe. Or curator, if that one doesn't work out," Steve said, and when Bucky started laughing at him, he punched him in the arm and asked, "And you?"_

_"Me?” Bucky furrowed his brows, setting some supplies aside as he checked his M24. “I don't know, Cap. Never really gave it much thought. But if I’m honest..." He glanced over the rocks they were hiding behind, and a heavy expression took hold of his face. "...I don't think I'm getting out of this one."_

 

Steve's eyes opened with the alarm. He watched the ceiling fan spin for a long moment, taking the time to let reality settle in before sitting up and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Another dream of his old friend, huh? At least it wasn't another one of those _other_ dreams. The thought floated in his mind for a moment before he pulled himself out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. He didn't need much time to get ready, and the institute he was teaching at was only a short walking distance from his flat.

Time had gone by so fast, and his last day in the army already dated back three years. As he'd told Bucky in that ditch, he went ahead and became a teacher, still working on his doctorate. Curator was clearly a position beyond his reach, but he didn't mind teaching, not at all.

This year's students seemed to be a bit dull up until now, but Steve found it to be both a curse and a blessing. For one, they didn't ask too many questions, so he usually managed to relay all the material in class, which left him with more time to run workshop sessions. So aside from the fact that he sometimes thought he might fall asleep standing, it was pretty good.

When Steve approached the office half an hour later, his phone dinged with a message. It was from Dr. Bruce Banner, asking him to help with some lab set-up or something. It had been a while since he’d last set foot in the science faculty, but Steve was always happy to help, so he answered that he'd drop by as soon as he could.

 

**Tony**

“I’m just saying that if we integrate these changes at the atomic level instead of the molecular one, we’ll probably get better results,” Tony said as he stepped up next to Bruce, hands in his pockets and stance easy. He looked down at the blueprints, smiling as he realized that, yes, this could really bring the mechanics of solar inverters to a whole new level.

“That’s not…” Bruce trailed off, leaning down to examine the disc beneath the microscope. After a moment, a sigh left his lips and he glanced up at Tony with an expression that was half exasperation and half pride. “Alright, genius. Let’s go over the formula again, see if it works in theory, and once the new equipment is set up, we can do some test runs.”

“Who's coming over, anyway?” Tony asked idly. They were usually alone in here. Sometimes, the science freshmen came in for a first tour, but otherwise, Bruce’s private lab was very much that—private. And Tony appreciated it. In here, no one commented on him staying too long in the nights, or coming in too late in the mornings… or his occasional drunk-tinkering (aside from Bruce himself, but his scolding had long ago lost its heat).

This was _his_ space, the one place where no one gave him the side-eye for being too young—and for being who he was in general.

“A friend,” Bruce said, as he sat down at his own workstation, staring at the monitor in front of him. “You know it’s a hassle to get the handymen here on such a short notice.”

Tony grabbed for one of the tablets, opening the project so he could track the changes Bruce was making. “Didn’t know you made any new friends, Brucie. Thought we were the Solitude-Brothers.”

Bruce didn’t even look up from the screen. The guy was definitely too used to Tony’s teasing. It was a shame.

“Well, maybe ‘friends’ is an overstatement. He likes to keep to himself, too, we just meet for coffee sometimes.” He pinched his jaw, which Bruce always did whenever he had some sort of revelation. “This looks good. We might be able to produce about 250 percent more energy, that’s… a real break-through. Thank you, I mean—how did you know?”

“I… might’ve read up on clean energy a little.”

“You—” Bruce stared at Tony, raising his brows. “I didn’t know you were interested.”

With a short shrug, Tony set the tablet back down on the table. “You said it’s the future, right?”

There was an expression on Bruce’s face that Tony—hands down—had never seen before, not in all those years they had worked together now. “Let’s, uh, just change the sequences, then you can re-upload the software. I… Good job, Tony.”

Tony snorted, smiling down at Bruce and patting his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you love me.”

“You don’t leave me a choice, do you?” Bruce shot back, grinning now as he brushed past Tony to take hold of the microscope again. He looked, for all the world, like an excited little child. It was pretty awesome. “Now, get back to work.”

 

**Steve**

After putting his office in order, Steve went to the main auditorium for the day's first class. As always, he'd gotten a full class to teach. History of Arts was not an easy subject, and some faces were familiar.

He smiled at everyone as he stepped towards his desk and set his folder on top of the old surface. "Good morning," he said, surveying the room. He pulled an attendance sheet from his folder and handed it to one of the students at the front before returning to the desk and pulling a pen from the first drawer. "Today we'll be talking about the differences between renaissance and classical art."

He scribbled a couple of names on the left side of the board and a few more on the right. "Anyone wanna share their thoughts?"

 

**Tony**

About an hour later, there was a knock on the main door leading down to the basement that housed Bruce’s lab. He and Bruce both turned around and simultaneously pulled down their working goggles.

“I’ll get it,” Tony said, jogging up the small stairway before Bruce could disagree. When he opened the door, he paused, his eyebrows shooting upwards almost instantly. That was… not what he had expected. When Bruce had said ‘friend’, Tony instantly thought of someone who was, well, like _them_ —one of the science guys.

And whoever _this_ was, obviously wasn’t some gangly nerd who liked to stare at screens, and mull over formulas and code lines on a daily basis.

“Wow,” Tony blurted, then gave Blonde ‘n Handsome an appreciative once-over. Yes, most definitely not what he had expected. Hot _damn_. “Sports Faculty’s right across the street, sweetcheeks.”

 

**Steve**

It had been a while since Steve last visited Bruce’s lab. As the door opened to reveal an unfamiliar face, he had to wonder how long exactly. He stood back, taking in the words before snorting out a short laughter. Whoever this kid was, he was probably new on the block, although Steve wasn't quite sure what he was doing here.

"Thanks, but I'm actually here for Dr. Banner," he said with an easy smile. He peered around the door but couldn't spot the man anywhere in direct line of sight. "This _is_ still his lab, isn't it?" he asked, glancing at the door. The writing on it had peeled off ages ago due to exposure to whatever materials it was Bruce was working with.

 

**Tony**

“Sure is,” Tony confirmed. “I’m his grad student, Tony.” He offered the guy his hand, shaking it once but not letting go right away. It was very warm and the guy had a good, strong grip, so Tony couldn’t help himself and let his thumb trail over the skin for a second longer.

When it came to men, he’d always had a weak spot for the blonde bulky sort of guys. And this one hit all the marks.

He grinned even wider when he noticed the now flustered look on Handsome’s face. Late twenties, early thirties, Tony figured. Clearly out of his reach, and—considering the worn messenger-bag and the casual-but-still-professional-looking jacket—he was probably one of the junior professors. Definitely out of his reach, then.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to tease the ‘He likes to keep to himself’ guy a little.

 

**Steve**

_Grad student?_ Steve thought, confused for a moment. The kid didn't look a day older than eighteen, but if he was Bruce's assistant he'd have to at least be in his early twenties. The way their hands lingered didn't escape Steve's notice, and he felt warm with mild embarrassment at the very obvious flirt.

Steve hadn't really had the chance, nor the interest, to look for anything that went beyond distant friendship with people; not since the army at least. He'd always preferred solitude. And this… well, this was out of his social capabilities by at least twenty miles.

"Nice to meet you, Tony," he said, trying to school his voice into something casual. He was failing miserably, wasn't he? That's why he’d always avoided meeting new people.

 

**Tony**

Tony hummed in agreement, leaning against the doorway. Bruce’s friend sure was handsome, by all definitions of the word. Soft looking lips, sun blond hair, and clear blue eyes that made him look both young and world-weary. Tony imagined he had a great body, considering the way his gray shirt hugged his torso and his pants tightened around his thighs.

“So, how can I assist you?” he asked with a wink, if only to get a rise out of the guy. He was staring at Tony in puzzlement—which wasn’t exactly a foreign reaction, and also sort of adorable—and raised his free hand to rub the back of his neck.

Tony could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he searched for an answer.

 

**Steve**

The suggestive tone didn't escape him—how could it?—and Steve only managed to stare at him for a moment. What even was this guy? Even with the oddly designed Van Dyke he had going, he looked very young. _Too_ young to be flirting like this with older men, that was for sure. His hair was a dark mess and Steve couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, and those brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Combining that with the unrefined flirting, Steve was confused beyond what he was comfortable with.

He swallowed, trying to come up with a response that would have more than vowels in it, when he saw Bruce coming their way.

_Thank God._

"I see you've met our History of Art teacher Steve Rogers," Bruce said, pointedly eyeing Tony, who was still holding onto Steve's hand. "And Steve…" He turned to him with a smile that was a touch too pleasant. "…this is my seventeen year old assistant, Tony Stark."

 

**Tony**

Tony turned his head sideways and cast Bruce a bored expression. “Spoilsport,” he said, just as Stevepulled his hand back so fast that Tony almost tipped over.

He had a strange sense of déja vù—it sure as hell wasn’t the first time Bruce went all cockblocker on him, especially when it came to his prof-friends. Whatever. Not like he _needed_ to hook up with stuck up art profs. He got laid plenty, that’s what campus parties were for, after all. No one cared about his age there, and that was exactly how Tony wanted things to be.

Tony rolled his eyes, and bowed his head a little, as he looked back at Steve. “Well, nice to meet you ‘Way-Too-Old-For-Me History of Art Teacher Steve Rogers’. I think we all got the memo, Brucie, thanks.”

 

**Steve**

The comment stung. If only because Steve didn't think he was _that_ old. He just really was too old to be entertaining _any_ kind of flirtation with a seventeen year old, no matter how experienced—more experienced than Steve—he clearly was. He cleared his throat and sent a grateful look towards Bruce. Of course, he wouldn't have let Tony's flirting get under his skin if he'd known. By now, he had enough practice with keeping students at a friendly teacher-student distance.

"Do all your assistants talk back like that?" he asked, hoping to ease the tension a little.

"I only have the one," Bruce said, indicating Tony with a tilt of his head and a smile on his face. "My star student, I must add." He stepped back into the lab, motioning for Steve to follow. "Come on, I don't want to take up too much of your time and this shouldn't be long."

 

**Tony**

Tony’s face flushed a bit at the compliment and he tried to cover it up with an unimpressed huff. “He’s always showing me off,” he explained with an exaggerated sigh as he trailed after the two men. Steve sure had a nice backside, Tony noted, especially when he leaned down to lift the new fume hood.

“Are all art profs this built?” Tony asked as he took hold of the table to help lifting it. At some point, Steve had discarded his jacket and Tony very much appreciated the way his arms flexed. “Or are you into sculpturing? I hear the sculpting guys are very good with their hands.”

He knew he was overstepping certain borders, but the last time he’d had sex had been a while ago, and being horny usually made him lose whatever was left of his modesty. Anyway, the guy had seemed more taken aback than angry at Tony’s advances. And besides, MIT would rather burn down the science faculty than reprimand the ‘Stark heir’.

“Tony,” Bruce warned with an exasperated look.

“What,” Tony shot back, affronted. “I’m just impressed with Professor Rogers’ physical fitness. That’s allowed, isn't it?”

 

**Steve**

In the few short years Steve had been teaching, he'd never been so directly hit on. Yes, some students did make propositions that were inappropriate, but those usually tapered off when Steve acted as if he was completely oblivious (well, he wasn't exactly acting but no one needed to know that, did they?)

"I, uh, work out," Steve supplied, not unkindly, to stop whatever scolding lecture Bruce had ready for Tony. He didn't want the kid to get in trouble. "And I do sculpt a little, occasionally," he added with a small smile, not bothering to tell Tony he wasn't actually a professor, yet. He lifted the heavy plate and brought it where Bruce had pointed at, but Bruce didn't move to secure it in place right away.

"Uhm, Bruce?" he asked, trying to not sound like he was straining under the weight.

 

**Tony**

Bruce was still glaring daggers at Tony, and only when art prof asked for directions, he looked away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please put it on that table at the end of the room…” He pointed to the work table on the far off side of the room, and Steve set into motion. “Yes, there.” Bruce trailed after him, but first came to a stop at Tony’s side.

“Not funny,” he said, but didn’t look too angry, all things considered.

Tony shrugged. “Your fault for bringing him here. You know how much I like art.”

Bruce snorted before he could help himself, then tried to compose his expression. “You go work on the formula, we can manage those last bits alone.”

“But, _Brucie—_ ”

“No sexual harassment in my lab, we had a talk about this,” Bruce fired back, using his ‘this is where my patience ends end you better not anger me’ tone, before he walked away.

“You’re just jealous,” Tony called after him, laughing when Bruce turned around and actually flipped him off.

There was a reason he loved working here.

 

* * *

 

**Steve**

In the weeks after they met at Bruce's lab, Steve suddenly spotted Tony all over the campus. The guy seemed to be everywhere. For one, the setup of Bruce’s new lab equipment had taken longer than one session, but even outside of the science division, Steve now saw Tony almost every day.

Steve would've liked to say that Tony had stopped flirting at some point, but that really wasn’t the case. If it _had_ stopped, it would've made his life a little easier, if only for the fact that he wouldn't have to _think_ about it all the time. And no matter how much Steve ignored his advances, it just didn't seem to deter Tony at all.

Steve had to wonder if any of it even mattered to him or if he just kept on teasing Steve for the sake of it. If he did the same with anyone who posed a challenge.

In any case, he had to hand it to the guy, Tony was one persistent nugget.

"So," Steve said, not really looking at Bruce, who was seated beside him at the counter. He'd asked for a private talk and they'd ended up going to their usual cafe next to the art faculty. "You're probably wondering why I wanted to talk in private…"

"Not really," Bruce said with a shrug, rotating his cup on the table slowly. "Tony's been giving you a hard time whenever you two meet, I know. You realize I'm usually there having to witness his painfully juvenile attempts to get a rise out of you." He lifted the mug to his lips and took a short sip. “You want me to talk to him?”

"Well, not exactly. I just… what's up with him?" Steve asked, relieved that he didn't have to broach the subject. Bruce really seemed to like Tony, even though he tended to scold him often.

"He's Tony Stark, Steve,” Bruce said, and the sideways glance he gave Steve wasn't very encouraging. “A kid like him wouldn't be normal even if he tried, and you can tell he isn't trying very hard."

When Steve simply looked at him, expression blank, Bruce seemed to finally get the problem. "You don't know who he is."

"Would I be asking if I did?" Steve countered, finally sipping his own coffee. It wasn't tasty, but that's what they served here, so he just drank on.

Bruce sighed. "Tony Stark, boy genius, soldered his first circuit board at age four? Ever heard that speech?" he tried, but Steve's confused stare was pretty obvious. "He's the son of deceased Howard and Maria Stark. That ring a bell?"

That _did_ ring a bell, and Steve frowned. "Died in a car accident last winter," he said, contemplative. "That was him? I didn’t know that." Another thought occurred to him then. "Shouldn't he be super rich, though? What's he doing still in school?" It was a silly question. Tony wasn't even a legal adult. He probably wouldn't be able to control any of his money anyway.

"Honestly?" Bruce asked, looking a little pained. Steve had to wonder about that, since he never knew Bruce to be so involved in anyone's life before. "I don't know." He paused for a bit, then added. "He doesn’t like to talk about his family. But so long as he's here, I'm happy."

Steve wasn't satisfied with that answer at all. "You don't _know_ ," he echoed. "You're sitting here looking like Tony's one of your best friends, and all you have to give me is that you don't know?"

"I can give you his excuse. Will that work for you?" Bruce didn't seem too affected by Steve's rant, he just stared at Steve contemplatively. "He's finishing his PhD."

That was it? A PhD? "But—"

"You don't have to tell me, I know. It's not even his _first_ PhD, it's his second. He did the first at Dr. Reeds'."

Steve pulled a face. Reeds was probably the least pleasant person on campus; not vicious or evil but just… insensitive. "So you think he's hiding."

Bruce shrugged again. "Hiding, stalling. Call it however you want. His godfather drops by every two months, always telling him to leave college and work at the company. Come to think of it, he's due pretty soon. I'd keep away from the labs if I were you, at least for a few weeks."

That didn't sound promising at all. No person, and especially not a kid, should be pushed into a corner like this. "That’s your advice? Seriously?"

"I'm just telling you how it is. Take it or leave it. Tony’s life isn’t easy, and he’s not an easy kid to deal with." He stood up. "I’m sorry… thanks for the coffee. I gotta head back—time sensitive experiment," he said and sent a small smile at Steve before hurrying out of the cafe.

Steve stared after him, unsure of how he felt about the load of new information.

Most of all, he felt sorry for Tony.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first part! This will be updated regularly :)


	2. Surface Tension

**“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”**

— Vincent Van Gogh

 

 

**Steve**

_"Perimeter?" Steve asked, looking around. One of the soldiers next to him pointed towards the retreating figure on the ground. He saw Bucky walking—sauntering, really—towards the next boulder that served as the unit's perimeter checkpoint. A sense of foreboding sat heavy in Steve's belly as he watched Bucky, the M24 dangling on his back. He'd been drilling everyone on safety regulation all morning, and it didn't sit well with him that his own sergeant acted so… careless._

_"Incoming!" someone shouted from the com-station.The whistle was loud and clear. Steve dropped flat on the ground, as did everyone around him. Twenty two, twenty three, twenty—_

_An explosion shook the air and earth under Steve. It was close. Too close. Jumping to his feet as soon as he deemed the situation safe enough he called for his sergeant, but Bucky was nowhere to be seen._

_“We were too late again,” the soldier next to him said, his voice full of regret. When Steve turned around, he could only stare at the young man in shock, stare at that ridiculous facial hair and those deep, troubled brown eyes..._

 

Steve startled awake, kicking and tangling in his blanket in a hurry to rise to his feet. "Buck _—_ " he huffed, half dreaming still. The room was quiet, nothing moved except for the gentle motion of the air under the ceiling fan. Steve had to force himself to loosen his fists into a more lax state. He was panting heavily, mostly shaken. His whole body felt sweaty.

He hadn't dreamed of that incident in a while, but those dreams were never far from his mind. He was still struggling against the grating feeling of sand in his throat and a burning in his eyes. Bucky, Bucky was in danger. He was…

It had already been three years, Steve reminded himself. Bucky had probably finished rehabilitation. He was… alive. Steve just needed… He needed to…

He looked at the dimly lit room he lived in. Everything was exactly as he'd left it when he went to bed. Everything was very still. He was in his apartment in Mass, and it was—he glanced at the digital clock across the room—four thirty in the morning.

Hanging his head low, Steve resigned himself to starting his day early as his panic slowly abated. He'd planned to wake up at five and get some gym time today, anyway, but first, he needed to let his heart-rate go down. To that end, he settled back onto his bed.

Staring at the ceiling, Steve let the thoughts come and go as they will. He should call Bucky. It had been too long, and Bucky deserved better from his best friend. Maybe later today, he mused, turning onto his side and watching the light from the digital clock blinking.

And what was he going to do about Tony? There were so many conflicting thoughts running through his head, but after the conversation with Bruce, all he could think of was that he should try and help Tony— _save_ him, somehow—, and that was just… A bad attitude towards someone he was supposed to be keeping at an arm's length. And how exactly was he going to talk to Bucky when all his mind could do was think about that damned bratty smirk and the infuriating guy attached to it?

The clock went off, and Steve shook his head. This wouldn’t get him anywhere, and the gym was waiting. It usually helped clear his mind, anyway.

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the warmth move down his throat and into his chest. Great feeling, he thought, and decided to have more right away.

He tipped the bottle, filling both his and Rhodey’s glasses. Around them, the party was still going strong, even though it was… how late was it exactly? He had a feeling they’d been in that damn fraternity house all night, and the sun would probably rise soon.

Several shots later, Tony started to wonder if he was going to be able to stay on the barstool much longer. It felt as if it was tilting wildly, and things around him had started to get blurry.

“Whoa, buddy,” Rhodey said next to him, and there were hands on his shoulders that pushed him upright again, _Oh_ , Tony thought with a small nod. That was better.

“Whoa?” he asked, anyway, raising a brow at his friend.

“Yes, ‘whoa’. Think you’re done for t’night.”

Tony snorted. Only Rhodey, his speech completely slurred, could still say that with any authority. “You’d know, huh?” Tony answered but put the bottle down anyway. “Knew you couldn’t hold your liquor.” At this point, his voice lacked its usual snark. He was just too tired.

“‘m holdin’ my liquor jus’ fine,” Rhodey answered with an eyeroll. Together, they made their way through the crowd, holding on to each other even while shaking hands and saying their goodbyes.

The sky was already a fairly light shade of blue, when they stepped outside the door. A light breeze blew across the campus grounds, and Tony closed his eyes and took a small breath. “Fuckin’ Obi,” he said quietly, feeling more sober immediately.

“I know, bud.” Rhodey’s hand was warm and firm on his shoulder.

“ _Two months_ ,” Tony said as they slowly—carefully—walked down the stairway. “I asked him for two fucking months, and he can’t even give me that.”

Rhodey huffed in disdain—because Rhodey was awesome. “He’ll come here, he’ll rant at you, and he’ll leave again. It’s a giant fuck up, but it’ll pass.”

Tony groaned as he leaned against Rhodey, letting him take some of his weight as they made their way across the smaller alleys. He should’ve stopped drinking at some point, he mused. The taste in his mouth was a mixture of tequila, cheap beer and something… else…

_Ugh_.

“I think I blew one of the jocks,” he murmured and wiped at his mouth again. “I told you not to leave me alone today. Where were you, anyway? I thought Carol said she wouldn’t come.”

“She didn’t,” Rhodey agreed, then shook his head in confusion. “Don’t even know man, there was beer pong, and then nothing.”

He waved at the house in front of them, and _right…_ they were already back at the dorm.

“Well, g’night,” Tony announced, and at Rhodey’s irritated stare, he added, “What? If Obi’s comin’ over in a week, I need to get the damn bot finished. No bot, no PhD, and I won’t fucking leave this place without it.”

Rhodey was about to protest, Tony could see it, so he just turned around and—very gracefully—walked down the way towards the lab.

Lost in his thoughts, Tony was almost past Simmons Hall, when a familiar figure suddenly crossed his path. He stopped in his tracks—probably not so gracefully—and valiantly fought the urge to just empty his stomach right on the grass in front of Steve’s feet.

“Well, hello, Picasso,” he said and cast him a wicked grin.

 

**Steve**

Tony honest to goodness _reeked_ so badly of alcohol that Steve could smell him about the same time he saw him. He was just circling back towards the gym after his morning jog when he spotted the royal mess Tony was. His fashionable clothes were rumpled and out of order, buttons unmade, shirt untucked, his jacket hanging askew on his shoulders and, God, stains on his shirt Steve really didn’t want to look any closer at.

"Tony," he said, and it sounded like a question and like judgment and pity all wrapped in one, even Steve could hear it in his voice. "What happened to you?"

 

**Tony**

Tony just stared at Steve, wondering what exactly to say. It was a loaded question at that point, so fucking loaded he didn’t even know where to start. Alcohol tended to make him too talkative, so better to dodge the subject altogether.

“Life?” Tony shot back, cocking his head to the side. It was hard to make out Steve’s features in the dim light of the early morning. And things were still distinctively blurry.

He waved a hand at where he hoped Steve’s face was, then set into motion. “Gotta go. Miracles to drink, coffees to invent… Have fun working out or painting or whatever it is you’re doing, Adonis.”

 

**Steve**

_Let him be, let him be, let him b_ —

"What? Tony…" he heard himself say, groaning internally at his inability to keep quiet about this. "You're too drunk to walk, how are you going to work like this?" It was a real struggle not to mention underage drinking at this point. Tony's eyes had that watery quality to them which meant he was ready to either pass out or fall asleep and that couldn't be safe for anyone, let alone someone headed to a laboratory.

 

**Tony**

Tony frowned as he turned around and stared at Steve disbelievingly. When exactly had they reached that point where Steve thought he could be telling Tony what to do with his life? Sure, they had met kind of regularly in those last weeks, mostly in Bruce’s lab, and mostly with Steve helping them rearrange one of the other heavier equipment.

It had taken Tony about three seconds to know Steve was one of the good guys—he was kind, and had this sort of dry humor that Tony really liked. Even Tony’s teasing didn’t seem to put him off so much as it made him flustered and sometimes a little exasperated with him. Mostly, he seemed amused, and maybe even a bit flattered.

Tony probably wouldn’t call them friends, but he sort of liked Steve, and maybe Steve sort of liked him too. Still. This was taking it a step too far.

“Look, Picasso,” he said and pointed a finger at Steve’s chest—or maybe he was even digging it into his pectoral, Tony couldn’t be sure. ”You might be a prof, but I’m not your student, and I’m certainly _not_ your business. I can work like this just fine, got enough proof of that by now, thank you very much.”

He started walking again, satisfied with himself, but he didn’t get very far until a hand at his right arm brought him to a halt.

“What—”

 

**Steve**

"If you don't want to sleep it off, at least drink some water and give it an hour before you go into the lab," Steve said, and he really thought it was a reasonable offer.

Still. Why was he meddling in things that weren't his business? Because he was worried, sure, but also because he couldn't in clean conscience let Tony go through with his plan without at least trying to stop him. Bruce would never forgive him if something happened, and Steve wasn't keen on getting on the good doctor's bad side.

Not to mention Steve would never forgive himself.

"Whatever it is you're so eager to work on can wait an hour, can't it?"

 

**Tony**

A shadow crossed Tony’s face. “No, it _can’t_ ,” he snapped, trying to pull his hand back but Steve was holding on tightly. His eyes flared and he pushed against Steve in a swift, angry motion. “Why would you even _care_?” he asked, and great, he was yelling now. The reasonable part of his brain was calmly trying to tell him that he was overreacting and that Steve only worried about him, but that part was small and surrounded by a lot of alcohol.

“I know you think I’m just some stupid kid, so let me do stupid things! What does it matter—just fuck off and let me _go_!”

A still beat settled between them, Steve’s eyes wide, and Tony used that moment of surprise to finally wrangle his hand free and storm off in the direction of the lab.

 

**Steve**

And that, Steve thought, is why teenagers weren't supposed to drink. It made them irrational to the point of pain. Steve only took a moment to recover from the shock. He'd never been so angrily dismissed, aside for a few occasions with Bu—that was a bad direction to go.

Steve shook his head, and took off after Tony. Luckily, the kid was still wobbly on his feet, which meant he couldn't get far very fast. Once he reached him, Steve leaned down and sweeped him up, one arm secure under his knees and the other under his back. Tony might hate him for this, but at least he'd be in one whole piece by the time he sobered up. "Come on," he said, tone level. "It's bedtime."

 

**Tony**

A surprised shriek left Tony’s lips as the world suddenly veered off its axis. He was—had Steve just actually picked him up? Tony was hanging in his arms, limp for a long moment, before his hazy mind caught up with what was happening.

He thrashed in Steve’s hold, sputtering threats to have him sued for child abuse, and emotional manipulation, and deprivation of liberty, and a bunch of other things that only had Steve laugh out loud. Tony wiggled in his grip some more, glaring daggers because what the _hell_ was the guy even thinking?

“Not cool, Picasso,” he snapped, slapping a hand against Steve’s chest for good measure, but he already knew there was no use in fighting. Besides, this was oddly nice, he thought. Warm, and kind of comfortable. He let his head fall on Steve’s shoulder with a tired sigh, vaguely noticing that they were nearing the dormitories.

Letting himself enjoy the physical contact that Steve would probably never allow if he were sober, Tony pushed his nose against his shirt, breathing in. “Smell good…” he muttered, digging his fingers into the cloth as he felt himself drifting off.

 

**Steve**

It was… nice. Nicer than Steve should probably think it was. Tony stopped struggling much sooner than he'd expected, settled down against him and, as far as he could tell, was happily dozing off.

He wasn't exactly sure where Tony's room was, but the dorms were all located in one building, so he figured that would be his best bet. Hopefully, by the time they got there Tony would kindly tell him where his room was.

"Hey, kid, don't go falling asleep before you tell me where you live," he scolded gently. He definitely shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he was, nor be flattered that Tony apparently liked his sweaty smell.

 

**Tony**

Tony sighed and pressed himself further against Steve while tucking his head into the space beneath his chin. He loved the softness of Steve’s skin there, and without giving it a thought, brushed a fleeting kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“No kid,” he murmured sleepily, with an unsuccessful attempt to muffle a yawn.

 

**Steve**

Steve's step faltered briefly when Tony kissed him. He should've expected this, probably, what with Tony's shameless flirting and all, but it still surprised him. He cleared his throat, then shook his head to clear it.

"Okay," he said at first, accepting Tony's refusal to be called a kid even though Tony himself chose to keep calling him Picasso despite countless times he'd asked him to stop it. "I'll still need to know which one is your room, though." He jostled Tony a little in his arms to wake him. "Come on, floor and room number? Then you can sleep till we get there."

 

**Tony**

Tony groaned with the sudden movement. His head was spinning and it took him a moment to fight the urge to throw up, likely spewing beer and tequila all over Steve and yup, that wouldn’t do any good.

He gathered his bearings, and looking up at Steve, he even managed a smile that hopefully looked suggestive and not seasick.

“Will you put me in bed?” he asked, struggling to focus on Steve’s face as he waved a finger at him. “Gotta undress me first, y’know?”

 

**Steve**

Steve sighed. "I will put you in bed, but I'm not undressing you," he said, looking away from Tony's face as he entered the building. "Even if you weren't…" he cleared his throat. Maybe mentioning Tony's age wouldn't be the best idea right now. "You're drunk off your ass."

He hoped that would be explanation enough as he came to a stop at the stairs. "Now, floor and room number, please, or I'll start knocking on every door."

 

**Tony**

Tony just smiled dopily, and with a surprising amount of dexterity, he managed to put a hand on Steve’s cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb.

“And if I weren’t drunk?” he prompted, chuckling lightly when Steve cast him an unimpressed look. “If I were sober and just really into you?”

 

**Steve**

Tony was so insistent, so single minded when he talked to Steve that it was making him impatient. He kept his eyes level with Tony. "I'm counting to three," he said, lifting one hand—the one under Tony's knees—to knock on the first door. "One."

 

**Tony**

For a second, Tony contemplated taking Steve up on that dare. A countdown. How old did Steve think he was, five? Still, Steve had that determined no-bullshit look going for him, and Tony really didn’t want to wake up the whole dorm right now.

Tony slumped back against Steve and cast him a pointed eyeroll. “Fine, party pooper,” he said, waving at the stairway next to them. “Second floor, 22 D. And the guy there isn’t my boyfriend, just so you know.”

 

**Steve**

"Thanks," Steve said, giving him a small smile. He ignored the boyfriend comment entirely and headed for the mentioned room.

Luckily, the door was unlocked. Steve wondered about it for a second, but the room was quiet and he preferred not to wake up anyone if he could help it. Looking around at the mildly messy room, Steve located the empty bed and raised his eyebrows in question. An affirmative nod from Tony was enough, although Steve wasn't entirely sure if it was an actual nod or just Tony falling asleep.

Tucking him into bed went easier than expected, but when he was sprawled out all over the mattress, Steve felt himself pause. Tony moved his limbs in languid motions, biting his lips ever so often. The way his hair fell on his forehead made him both look young and very sensual and just…

God, Steve really shouldn't be thinking how attractive Tony was, especially not when he was so drunk, but thoughts were hard to control.

Tony let Steve cover him without any resistance, or maybe he was just too sleepy to care what Steve did. He only reached for him when the blanket was set in place, and Steve took the extended hand and squeezed it gently before setting it back on top of the blanket.

"Good night," he whispered, ready to leave. He cast one last look around the room, but could barely see anything in the shutters-dim darkness. There were all sorts of schematics and tools lying around, and he even spotted a blueprint of what looked like a metal arm on wheels. Steve couldn't deny that he was... curious... about Tony's living space, but now was probably not the time, and it was certainly inappropriate regardless.

He closed the door as quietly as he could when he left.

 

* * *

 

SR> _Found Tony on campus early this morning. He was so drunk he couldn't even keep himself upright. Took him to his dorm and put him to bed. Can you check up on him later?_

BB> _Put him to bed? Alright, I'll see what I can do._

SR> _Thanks, Bruce._

 

* * *

 

**Steve**

Aside for that morning incident, Steve’s day passed in relative ease. Steve took a shower and then taught a class in the morning, followed by his usual workshop slot. After that, he had a few counseling meetings with arts students who were struggling with some of the material. All in all, it was early afternoon when he was done for the day and headed home.

As he rounded the corner to his street, though, he paused. Or maybe ‘froze completely’ was a better word.

_No_ … He'd recognize the man currently standing at his doorstep from miles away, even though he hadn't seen him in years.

"Bucky?" he asked as he approached the step. Bucky smiled at him, but it was an unstable kind of smile, the kind that was a little lopsided, and didn't reach his eyes. Bucky didn't look like he was doing well at all. His hair was longer than Steve remembered, he had deep, dark circles around his eyes and wasn't properly shaved.

"Hi, Steve. Been a while," Bucky said, and—without any reservations—leaned over and wound his arm around Steve’s neck. Steve hugged him back, tightly. He should’ve known that even three years of absolute radio silence wouldn't sever a friendship like theirs. Even the incident that had cost Bucky so much.

Everything that had happened… He never really took the time to work through that guilt, and Bucky never pressed. _Like you gave him any chance to,_ Steve thought, feeling even worse about the whole thing.

"Come on in," Steve eventually said, unlocking the door and ushering his friend inside. "You look like you could use some coffee."

"Thanks," Bucky said, and Steve eyed him worriedly. He didn't even sound sarcastic when he said that. He pointed Bucky towards the couch as he went to get the coffee started. Once they were settled with steaming mugs, Steve let himself look at his friend for a long moment. Neither of them spoke, but Bucky gave him a small smile.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Stevie."

"Not a ghost," Steve countered. "Just…" He waved a hand vaguely. "I dreamed about you this morning… Thought about calling. So, just a bit strange to see you now. How've you been?"

A fleeting shadow passed over Bucky's face and Steve gulped, bracing for a full-on argument. He knew he hadn't dealt with Bucky's injury like a best friend should. And he knew Bucky had every right to be angry at him.

Strangely, Bucky only lowered his gaze to his coffee, staying quiet for a moment, before he cleared his throat. "It's… not going so well for me," he said, then told him how he'd been released from the hospital, how the military discharged him with nothing to his name but a purple heart decoration. Steve kept nodding his head as he heard how Bucky couldn't get a job, and how he didn't do well enough in his SATs to get into college.

Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead. And here he was, moping about a little bit of extra attention from a kid at school.

"Basically, coming here was my last option before stepping into heavy traffic," Bucky concluded. His voice made it seem as if he was joking, but it was the simplistic nature of that statement, the lack of grave drama that let Steve know Bucky was serious about this.

Steve stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, before shaking his head. "Buck." He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and reached to hug him again. Bucky didn't shrug him away. "Don't ever say stuff like that…" And though he tried to sound stern, military hardened Captain that he was, the words came out strangled.

"Can't really promise that right now," Bucky said, leaning against him heavily. Steve was ready to protest but Bucky shook his head over Steve's shoulder. "It's just been a shitty year," he continued. "I could use your help."

Pulling back a little, Steve stared at his friend closely. Then, he nodded his head. "Alright," he said. "Anything you need, I've got your back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments and encouragements. We really appreciate it. Hope you liked this part, there's more to come <3


	3. Magnetic Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: We are aware that 17 is legal in the US when it comes to age of consent, but we're going with it being illegal for the purpose of this storyline.

**“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.”**

— Pablo Picasso

 

 

**Tony**

“Have you tried to make the LOC change substantially?” Bruce asked, from where he was hunched over Tony’s tablet, scrolling through the thousand lines of code.

“It already does,” Tony mumbled, scratching his head. He had left the realm of a common headache long ago, this _thing_ in his head was far far worse. “The LOC is functional, and so are the neutral nets and all of the databases. And since I scratched the damn speech generator, I don’t see why it’s not working.”

_Why are you not working?_ Tony thought, his cheek leaning on the big claw in front of him.

Bruce sighed. “Look, I wish I could help you, but this isn’t exactly my field of expertise, and if I’m honest, I’m still having trouble working with your programming language. Does it… I don’t know… get enough power?”

Tony snorted and cast Bruce an amused glance. He might not be much of a help, but Tony was glad he was here, anyway.

“It’s linked to the campus’ power grid, that’s enough to power ten of him, easy.” Tony slumped back in his chair, feeling the exhaustion in his limbs. He really shouldn’t quit now, Obi was about to show up here any day, and if DUM-E wasn’t working…

“At least he can give me a fist bump now, can’t you, DUM-E?” Tony prompted, raising his hand. It took a second, but then the claw closed, rearranged its angle, then lowered until it had reached the height of Tony’s outstretched hand. Cautiously, it came closer, then moved forward until it gently touched Tony’s knuckles.

Tony grinned. “Good boy.”

Bruce was smiling, too. “Thought it didn’t have voice recognition?”

“No, he does. He just doesn’t have a speech modulator. He’s understanding just fine. I figure it’s the TTS interface that’s giving him trouble, but that’s just one option out of, I don’t know, a hundred?” He let his fingers trail over the claw. “You’re just being stubborn, aren’t you, DUM-E?” When DUM-E didn’t move, Tony took a deep breath and jabbed his fingernails into his own palm.

_Or I’m just not good enough to make you work._

“It’s gonna be great Tony. This is… a completely new step into electrical-engineering, into aerodynamics, and… science in general. Who can say that about their project? Just give it some time.”

“I have a lot of things,” Tony said quietly. “Time isn’t one of ‘em.” As soon as Obi put him into one of SI’s research labs, he wouldn’t be making anything but weapons. He would be putting all of his brains and effort into building things that’d destroy, that’d take lives. He sure wouldn’t have the time to finish something stupid like an arm on wheels.

Bruce sighed and patted his shoulder encouragingly. “It’s late, gotta go, it’s Thursday and—”

“—Thursday’s roastbeef day,” Tony continued, smiling up at Bruce. “Tell Betty I said hi.”

“Don’t stay up too late, and eat something, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sure,” Tony mumbled, then remembered something. “Hey Brucie, do you know—uh… will Steve come over here again sometime?”

Tony couldn’t deny anymore that the fluttery feeling in his chest—the kind of fluttery that made his head a little dizzy and brought a smile to his face all the damn time—had everything to do with the memory of Steve carrying him home last week. The frat party and everything that’d happened after remained fuzzy at best, but he remembered Steve’s smell, and Steve’s arms around him, Steve’s amused laughter and fond looks and…

God, Tony had it bad.

He hadn’t even wanted to go to any of the pre-graduation parties, and those were usually the big highlights of every semester. Free alcohol, free make-out sessions and a happy ending at the end of the night, if you played your cards right.

And yet, he hadn’t wanted to go. It had to do with DUM-E and the dozen allnighters Tony had pulled off in those last weeks, but it was also… Steve.

The stupid flirting and teasing might’ve turned into an even stupider crush. And the fact that Steve hadn’t shown up in the lab ever since didn’t exactly help ease Tony’s mind.

_Stop thinking about stuck-up Art profs._

_Stop thinking about stuck-up Art profs._

_Stop. Thinking. About. Stuck-up. Art. Profs._

“The new equipment is set, I don’t know why he should, exactly,” Bruce said slowly, obviously gauging his words. He was leaning against the wall beside the exit, eyeing Tony with interest. “You really should stop giving him such a hard time, you know? Kids flirting with you is tricky business, Tony. Don’t put him in that spot.”

“I’m _not_ a kid,” Tony snapped, even as his shoulders slumped.

Another sigh from Bruce. “A student then. But Steve’s still very much a staff member. If anyone gets the wrong idea, it could cost him his job and worse, you know that?”

Tony frowned, giving Bruce a confused stare. “I didn’t _do_ anything. I just tease him. I tease _you_ all the time!”

“The way you tease me and the way you tease Steve are definitely not the same thing, thank god,” Bruce said with a little shake of his head. “I know you had him carry you home last week. He texted me after. He even put you to _bed_ , Tony. I just… Don’t take advantage of him just because he’s a nice guy, okay?”

Tony tightened his arms around his stomach and looked down at the floor. “Can’t take advantage of someone who's not there,” Tony murmured, stubbornly bumping his feet against DUM-E’s support beam.

“Tony…”

“I get it,” Tony shot back, and he knew by the heat in his face that his cheeks were a deep red, and the knots in his stomach only made the temperature beneath his skin more unbearable.

God, he really _was_ crushing on Steve, wasn’t he?

“Take care of your roast beef,” he said, giving Bruce a small smile. “Then worry about everything else. Steve’s a prof, I’m a student. He’s off limits, got it.”

But he really doubted that life could ever be that simple.

 

* * *

 

**Steve**

_This is a very_ very _bad idea,_ Steve thought as he approached the lab door. It'd been some time since he'd last seen Tony, drunk and ready to get to work in here, and tucked him in bed instead. He'd kept his distance after, mainly because he thought that might help put a stop to the pointless flirting and the… _reactions_ Steve was starting to have. But when all was said and done, Steve was worried, and decided to check up on him. So when he couldn't stand the nagging voice in the back of his head any longer, he already found himself walking towards the Science Faculty.

He could hear voices from inside, one was definitely Tony, sounding more timid than Steve could ever remember hearing him, and the other was inexplicably chilling.

"Don't keep the board waiting too long, my boy," the voice said, sounding suddenly louder. There was a coercive edge to that voice, and Steve got the sense that by 'board', the man really meant himself.

The door swung open before Steve could really think of what he'd say when he saw the people inside the room, but the guy who stepped out—tall, robust and scowling heavily—didn't even spare one glance in his direction, not even a hum of acknowledgement, before storming off.

Steve hung back, staring at the wide open door. He couldn't see Tony from where he was standing but knew he must be in there. It took a moment before he made himself move, taking a step forward. "Tony?"

 

**Tony**

A sardonic grin overwhelmed Tony, aimed more at himself than anyone else. Of course Steve would be showing up _now_. Not that he’d been waiting to see him again for days, but sure, now was a great time, a perfect time, this was—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony snapped without even turning around. With a brush of his hand, he swiped the contents on the working table in front of him to the floor, then leaned down on it with both hands.

DUM-E was kind of trying to reach for him with his claw, but the mechanism was still flawed and he only managed to fist bump the air next to Tony’s shoulder.

The bot was a giant failure. And he wasn’t the only one.

Tony sighed heavily as he let his head hang low, straining to maintain some level of control. “What do you want?”

 

**Steve**

Steve stepped into the lab just in time to see everything flying off the table and a mechanical arm trying to fistbump Tony's shoulder. It would've been a hilarious sight if it hadn't been for the strange man that had just left and the utterly furious vibe that Tony emanated.

"I was worried about—" he started saying, realizing belatedly that he was telling Tony the _truth_ and that he really _shouldn't_ be doing that, and that now was most definitely not the right time to talk to him, but he was already here and the sentence was hanging unfinished. He hurried to complete it, though it came out as a weak afterthought. "—you."

 

**Tony**

“Well, I’m not drunk, if that’s what you wanna know,” Tony snapped and whirled around. Too late, he realized that Steve actually _looked_ worried, and not the judgemental kind of worry, but just… concerned. His eyes were flickering between Tony’s face, the papers on the floor, and DUM-E’s frame.

Tony paused then, and while his anger didn’t subside—Obi had made sure of that—it was sort of overshadowed with a cautious relief that Steve hadn’t just decided to forget about him altogether.

**Steve**

"I sorta figured that out," Steve supplied. He nearly said something more along the lines of being relieved about that but... Tony already looked ready to detonate, and Steve didn't want to be the one to set him off.

He hesitated on that thought. Whatever that conversation had been about, it had really gotten Tony riled up. Even from the door Steve could see him still panting with his rage.

Should he ask? He probably shouldn't. It wasn't his business, and neither of them needed things to get messy.

"So, that guy…"

_Damn it._

 

**Tony**

“Business associate,” Tony said promptly, but couldn’t find his words after that. The anger in him slowly losing to despair. He turned around again, not wanting Steve to see, and instead leaned against DUM-E’s frame.

_Why couldn’t you have just worked? If you had, he might’ve been impressed enough to let me do my own thing, and now…_

Obi had all but laughed in Tony’s face at the mere mention of an A.I., and sure, DUM-E’s programming was very basic at heart, but he _did_ have a learning system. If everything had worked the way it was supposed to, DUM-E would’ve been able to make his own decisions, to learn what he wanted to do, and behave accordingly around others and…

And now he barely managed to make a fist bump.

“Now’s really not a good time, Steve,” Tony murmured after a moment, fingers trailing along DUM-E’s claw that was still trying to find something it could greet properly.

 

**Steve**

Tony wasn't telling the whole truth. Steve was sure of that. He wanted to ask—was going to, actually—when the arm moved again, drawing his attention.

"I'm… sorry," Steve said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Uh…" The arm turned towards him and Steve looked at it for a long moment. "What's it doing, Tony?"

 

**Tony**

Tony blinked, not bothering to hide his surprise when he saw Steve staring at DUM-E with wide eyes. The bot had turned its claw in Steve’s direction, rotating it back and forth as if to wave at him.

“He’s a… failed experiment in robotics. Just… ignore him,” Tony said, and the whirring noises from DUM-E’s servos really _shouldn’t_ sound cute and kind of pathetic, but they did. Sometimes.

 

**Steve**

"It's waving at me," Steve realized then, ignoring Tony's degrading words. "You made it yourself?" he asked, approaching the mechanical wonder. The arm lifted a little, then lowered, as if inspecting him, maybe measuring him up.

This was… amazing. He took a few steps closer to the mess that was Tony's working area to get a better look at the machine.

"Is it moving on its own?" Even to his own ears, Steve sounded awed, but he didn't care. Technology had always fascinated him—it seemed like magic, really, and he didn't mind if Tony poked fun at him about it.

 

**Tony**

Tony sighed diplomatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with tired exasperation.

“Yes I did, and no, it’s not,” he said, frowning when the claw turned in his direction again as if sensing Tony’s voice. “Its…” He took a deep breath, glancing up at Steve. “Its programming is a jumbled mess, okay? I started working on him when I was fourteen or something, and I messed up lots of the basic coding. It’s really a wonder he went online in the first place. I tried to fix the code these past weeks, improve the syntax, really make him functional and all, but…” But then _you_ happened, and I couldn’t concentrate, thanks very much. “...but I think I just have to accept the fact that he’s yet another failure and do what I’m su—”

The whirring got louder and DUM-E’s claw honest to god sagged down as if slumping in on itself. But instead of just hanging there, the claw opened up and tugged at Tony’s shirt, a sort of whiny noise filling the air.

Tony stared at the bot blankly, then, his voice very stable, “Let go, DUM-E.”

And amazingly— _miraculously_ —the claw let go of him.

 

**Steve**

"Doesn't look like a failure from where I'm standing," Steve admitted, still watching the arm pull back and turn towards him. "This is… really amazing," he said, smiling at Tony. "It's hearing us, isn't it?"

 

**Tony**

Steve’s smile was infectious and Tony felt the remains of his anger drain, feeling the corners of his mouth lift almost against his will instead.

“He _should_ be, but… he... didn’t,” Tony said slowly, taking a few steps to the side so he was standing right behind Steve. “DUM-E?” he called, and sure enough, the claw was raised right above Steve’s head, its angle perfectly directed at Tony.

“Oh, you’ve got to be _kidding_ me,” Tony said, pointing an accusing finger at the claw, then stepping up next to Steve again.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh, hug the damn bot, or rip his own hair out because if DUM-E had worked properly just _five_ goddamn minutes ago, he wouldn’t be in this giant mess now.

Tony had been so _sure_ he had gotten it right this time. The test runs had worked perfectly. But when Obi had asked DUM-E to so much as open his claw, he had only made that pathetic shivery movement to the side, then nothing for the rest of the half hour. It was as if he had decided he hadn’t liked Obi and just…

“You’ve GOT to be kidding me,” he repeated, realization dawning on him, then went to pick up his tablet that was still linked to DUM-E’s protocols.

 

**Steve**

"So you're DUM-E, huh?" Steve asked the device, feeling a little silly to be talking to a… well, 'inanimate thing' didn't feel like the right term to use for it. "That's not a very nice name, huh?" he asked, side-eyeing Tony for a moment before turning back to the mechanical arm. It could hear him, so he figured it was only polite to introduce himself. "I'm Steve Rogers," he said, offering his hand to shake the thing's claw.

 

**Tony**

Tony eyed Steve with a weird mixture of disbelief and… fondness. The guy actually seemed to be amazed by DUM-E, and while Tony always had believed that the bot could be all kinds of amazing, this was… new.

DUM-E was sort of screeching in excitement, as he shook Steve’s hand up and down, and Tony _had_ to drag his eyes away if only to not lose his sanity. Instead, he stared down at the latest protocol, scrolling back a little and—yup. DUM-E’s code had worked perfectly when Obi had entered the lab, and only when he’d called him a ‘giant pile of crap’, DUM-E had ceased all function.

Only to miraculously wake up again when Steve had entered.

“I can’t believe you faked a breakdown,” Tony said as he stared up at the bot. The claw—still holding Steve’s hand—slightly turned in Tony’s direction and, for the lack of a better word, cocked its head curiously.

“So, you’re a bit of a brat,” Tony noted, smiling as he put the tablet down. He moved forward, and not caring what Steve thought about it, he hugged the damn pile of crap, laughing a bit with relief. “That’s fine,” he mumbled. “So am I.”

 

**Steve**

Steve let go of the claw when Tony moved in for a hug. He was laughing because at least Tony was self aware, and apparently his creation was already imitating him.

"So you wrote an A.I. all by yourself," he finally said. It was true—he didn't have enough knowledge in technology to be called anything more than average, but he did know that Artificial Intelligence was a seriously advanced field. "That's, uh, impressive."

 

**Tony**

The world’s leading scientists would be wetting themselves by now, Tony thought on an amused snort, but sure, ‘impressive’ worked, too.

“Eh,” he said as he leaned back, petting the claw gently before letting go entirely. “You know how it is… I had a bit of time left, so…” He waved at DUM-E, internally squealing with delight because he’d actually done it. The bot was working, it was _learning_ , and maybe— _maybe_ —Obi would realize that there was more to SI than weapons, after all.

Steve was still smiling that bright, fond smile, and following an impulse, Tony moved for him, wrapping both arms firmly around his shoulders.

 

**Steve**

It was so clear that Tony was proud of himself, no matter how he tried to downplay it. It had probably been hard work and—

And he had Tony's arms around him.

He hugged back instinctively. And when his mind caught up with him the reasoning came crashing in, excuses lining up to explain away why he was hugging a yet-underage student. He didn't pull away, though he tried to keep the hug friendly-professional, no important parts touching, with his own hands safely resting at the center of Tony's back.

"Good job," he praised quietly.

 

**Tony**

Tony was hugging Steve, and while the power of his excitement still had him trembling, he regained some form of calmness.

Steve felt… good against him. The days after that party, Tony had spent a good while thinking _how_ great it had felt to be so close to Steve. And now that Steve’s arms were closing in around him, making Tony feel appreciated and safe and a lot of other stuff he hadn’t felt in ages… and sure, also unsurprisingly aroused, Tony decided to damn everything to hell and just go for it.

“Please don’t freak out,” he mumbled awkwardly, but didn’t give Steve even a second to let those words register, before he pulled back slightly. He cupped Steve’s face, guiding his mouth to Tony’s and pressing their lips together.

For a blessed second, he had Steve’s taste. He let his tongue brush against Steve's lower lip, committing him to memory.

There was little chance he’d get to savor this again.

 

**Steve**

_Don't freak out?_ was all Steve managed to think before Tony kissed him.

_Oh no._

He froze, for a moment too blindsided by the bold move to really do anything about it. Tony's lips were soft and his hands were rough against Steve's face, and he had a look of… near-desperation in his eyes. Of course, Steve couldn't let something like this be happening, no matter how his heart jolted and how aware he was of Tony's warmth, and how much he wanted not to crush Tony's hopes.

He reached up and gently grabbed both of Tony's wrists, then pulled back. "What…" He swallowed once, licking his lips without really noticing that he was doing it. "What are you doing?"

It was a stupid question because Steve should've known by now that this would happen, should've kept his distance, and he should know _exactly_ what it was Tony was trying to do.

Steve knew he should be letting go of Tony and moving away, putting some distance between them, but the hurt already showing in his eyes was just too much. He _also_ knew he should be rejecting Tony harshly, outright, but that seemed to be beyond Steve's capacity.

 

**Tony**

Tony’s eyes hesitantly drifted upwards, clashing with Steve’s blue ones. They were a deep sea of shock and the world around Tony crumbled. Steve looked real tense, and it wasn’t hard to tell this wasn’t going as he’d hoped it would.

He swallowed hard. The witty parts of his brain had clearly abandoned him. “I know I’m a bit younger than you,” he admitted helplessly. “But no one has to know right? You're not _that_ much older, and I’m… really into you, and…” Tony trailed off, trying to find the right thing to say, because if Steve rejected him right now, this would surely be it.

He tried for a smile, a thumb tracing Steve’s fingers from where the guy still held his hands up and far away from himself. “Come on, Steve,” Tony pleaded. “Plausible deniability. Here, repeat after me: ‘I really thought he was older’.”

It was the wrong thing to say, that much was clear. Steve’s brows furrowed, and Tony could see determination sink in quickly.

A war of emotions surged within Tony, each battling for superiority. His lower regions wanted to press closer and rub against Steve’s dick until he would cave. Logic told him to step back and let Steve go if he wanted to… but outside of his projects, logic wasn’t exactly Tony’s primary driving force. “Steve…” he said, leaning in again.

 

**Steve**

Steve dodged Tony’s second attempt at kissing him and sternly met his eyes. "We can't do this, Tony. _I_ _can't_ ," he said, taking a deep breath to stabilize himself even as he saw Tony's face hardening.

"What you're suggesting is… It's too risky for me," he added, and immediately knew this would backfire. He knew he shouldn't be saying anything to give any illusion that he might be interested but he couldn't bring himself to lie. "I'm sorry."

 

**Tony**

“But you want to,” Tony retorted pointedly, searching Steve’s gaze. He hadn’t let go of him yet, and that was good, right? As long as Steve wanted this… wanted _him…_ Tony didn’t see the problem. Of course it was risky for Steve, but they could be careful. On paper, Tony might still be a minor, but he was old enough to know damn well what he wanted. His eighteenth birthday was only a good six months away and if that was all that separated this from being legal, then Tony would gladly damn all regulations to hell.

 

**Steve**

"What I want has nothing to do with it," Steve said in a stern tone, and finally took a step back, dropping Tony's hands. He could see the hope building, determination Steve should not be encouraging shining behind those brilliant browns. "I'm really sorry," he said again and turned away from him. "I have to... go."

He tried telling himself he wasn't running away.

On the battlefield, regulations were crucial. They could mean the difference between life and death. There were some rules that had to be followed. Rules written in the blood of lost brothers in arms. Some rules could be bent, but never fully overlooked. Only _some_ rules could be outright ignored—social cues, things that didn't really matter, obstacles in the way to happiness.

Steve during his military service wouldn't have hesitated a second to just go for this. Even now a part of him was lamenting his own cowardice, but his _career_ —the one he'd told Bucky he would pursue, the quiet life—he didn’t want to ruin it.

Besides, the gap between them really wasn't that inconsequential, especially since Tony was underage.

As Steve reached for the door, he couldn't help himself and glanced back at Tony one last time. He said nothing, though, only biting his lip against any empty words that might come out, and closed the door.


	4. Convergent Boundary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments <3 We really appreciate it!

**“I do not seek. I find.”**

— Pablo Picasso

 

**Steve**

Steve was convincing himself he wasn't moping about the whole thing as he peered into his fridge. "Pizza works?" he asked, only receiving a grunt in response. He shook his head and sighed. "Use words."

"Yes Sir, Captain Rogers," Bucky retorted from the kitchen chair. He was staring at Steve with an intense expression. Steve felt himself tense a little before pulling out the frozen pizza and set to get it into the oven.

"Don't call me that," he finally said, setting the heat to the correct level and putting the box down, waiting for the oven to heat up. Bucky didn't say anything for a long moment, and Steve didn't want to look at him and see what more he had to say.

"Right, they demoted you, didn't they?" Bucky's tone was deceptively light, but when Steve turned to look at him his face screamed bitterness. Every time Steve looked at him he couldn't ignore the missing limb. Shame rushed through him. He really shouldn’t be complaining about his silly problems—it was such trivial stuff compared to Bucky's situation.

"Actually, they didn't do anything," Steve said, sitting down in the chair across from Bucky and looking at him closely. He was pale, but looking much better than he did when he showed up at Steve's door. Bucky lifted an eyebrow at him, a silent 'oh?' "I… After what happened, I just quit. They never court martialed me."

"That's excellent news," Bucky said, and Steve could _feel_ the punch to the chest. He hadn't told Bucky about any of this. He only saw him a handful of times after what had happened, and then he couldn't bear it and found excuses to leave, to stay far away. So of course Bucky wouldn't know.

"Bucky…"

"You know, this," Bucky said, indicating his missing arm, "this sort of thing happens when you become a soldier. It just happens, and we have to accept that it happens sometimes. I was the unlucky guy, fine. I can live with that. We both knew the risks going in." He shook his head, giving a bitter laughter. "But disappearing for three years, that's a choice." He looked directly at Steve. "Your choice."

Steve leaped out of the chair, busying himself with the pizza and pointedly not looking at Bucky. Only once he had it happily baking away in the oven, did he turn around to face the other man, his best friend for most of his life. "I'm sorry, okay?" he said, his voice low, strained. "I'm a shitty coward and I run away from things I can't handle. It's what I do, apparently."

Bucky's frown deepened at that and he groaned. "I never said—"

"You didn't have to." Steve knew he was agitated, and not just because of Bucky. The kiss was still on his mind despite it all. He was still questioning his course of action with Tony. "We both got enlisted and you got the short end of it. It was my fault and I couldn't—" He hitched a breath. "Couldn't face it. Couldn't face you."

"First of all," Bucky said, lifting a finger. "What happened wasn't your fault." His tone made it very clear that there would be no arguing with him on this. "And second…" He hesitated before shaking his head, subtle impatience creeping into his voice. "Self-deprecation never worked on me before, Steve. Why're you tryna use it on me now?"

Steve was at a loss for words and neither of them spoke for a long moment, watching the oven as it baked the pizza with its fiery heat.

The day after Tony had kissed Steve, the kid had all but exploded over the mass media with his breakthrough A.I. code. For a whole week, Tony was about everywhere, in the newspapers, as well as on television. Steve had been a little apprehensive at first, worried that Tony might seek revenge, now that he had his fame to lean on, but the blow never came. He kept his mouth shut, and Steve would have liked to say he was relieved but…

But the kiss was constantly on his mind, as was the warmth of Tony's hands. He kept thinking back to when he'd found Tony on campus, drunk, all bristle hostility but fragile in his arms. That was a kid that needed attention he wasn't getting, Bruce's goodwill and all.

Steve shouldn't pursue anything with him. He knew he wasn't seeing Tony as a full adult—not all the time. It would be unhealthy for both of them. Steve could feel the drive to be a nurturing force in the kid's life; to be the person who made sure he was eating properly and had someone to turn to he could trust no matter what. That couldn't be good ground for a romantic pursuit. Besides, the kid already _had_ a godfather. _An awful, probably abusive godfather_ , his mind supplied bitterly, but a person who was legally responsible for Tony's well-being until he was of age. The guy kept gushing over how much he'd been helping Tony all over the news. Steve had recognized him instantly and felt cold fury coil in his chest whenever he thought about that smug face.

"There's something else," Bucky suddenly said, eyes wide with realization, when Steve turned back around. "Isn't there? Something's on your mind."

"Yeah." Steve nodded his head, ducking it for a brief second. There really was no use in hiding from Bucky. He’d always known him far too well. "It's… It's stupid, compared to what you're dealing with."

"Spill, Rogers."

Steve sighed wistfully and pursed his lips. "A student kissed me."

Bucky just stared at him like Steve must be stupid. "So? Was she hot?"

_Right_. Bucky didn't know, did he? Steve hesitated apparently one beat too long because the next second there was a flicker of understanding in Bucky's eyes. "Oh," he said, then pressed on. "Was _he_ hot?"

"He's seventeen. What he looks like is irrelevant."

"You dog!" Bucky exclaimed, looking delighted at the revelation. "Old man Rogers and a jailbait. Your mom would've been proud."

"Ma would've been mortified," Steve said, eyes set firmly on the table between them.

"Well, yeah, that too.” Bucky scratched at his chin. “She'd probably make you break up with him."

"I'm not _seeing_ him. He's an assistant to one of my friends on-campus. Been flirting with me from the first second." Bucky laughed at that, making Steve glare at him.

"Did you give him your patented Awkward Flirting?"

"No, Bucky. I—" Steve lifted his chin. "I didn’t give him anything. That friend of mine looked out for me and told me his age right away. I wouldn’t…" He crossed his arms and sighed. "Cute kid, but not someone I could ever consider. Even if he weren't underage, he's a student and I'm a staff member. I'd get fired so hard I'd never be able to find another job in this field."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, then nodded his head like he'd made a decision. "Alright. We're going out. Tonight. Any ideas?" Bucky was eyeing him expectantly and Steve only shifted in his chair, shrugging. "You… never go out, do you? Oh Stevie, look at you. Thirty years old and being hit on by children on campus. We're going out and we'll find you someone to hookup with."

Steve was scandalized. "Absolutely not." He squared his shoulders. "I don't do hookups." _Anymore._

"Fine, whatever. But you're going out, anyway." It was final, it seemed. "Tonight's now officially date night. We'll go after dinner."

Steve wanted to protest, to tell Bucky he didn't like the idea, but then he thought about what he'd do if he stayed home. Think about Tony some more? Think about the kiss? The teeth that had nibbled at him, promising more, taunting him until he couldn't think anymore?

"You know what?" Steve said then, lifting his eyes to meet Bucky's. "Fine."

He really needed a distraction.

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

After his horrible attempt at kissing Steve, Tony’s mood took a tumble into very bad territory. The day Tony had announced his project finished and allowed MIT’s graduation committee to take a look at DUM-E, a media frenzy had broken loose.

In the span of twenty-four hours, Tony had given one interview after another, and declined about three dozen buying offers for the programming code alone. Obi had been back in the lab about an hour later, declaring loudly and enthusiastically that he had supported Tony every step of the way and that Stark Industries couldn’t be more proud of their future CEO.

Afterwards, he’d asked Tony how long it would take to implement DUM-E’s matrix into a warfare system.

The thought equally amused and horrified Tony. He’d only been around DUM-E for an hour or so before hell broke loose, but it was very clear that if DUM-E had to decide about some war strategy, he’d probably offer to send the other side flower bouquets and call it a day.

The day passed, and the next as well. A week later, Tony felt himself sinking into an endless tedium of moping, and everything, even his courses, only seemed to remind him why he now officially hated Steve.

The guy had bolted out of the room in the blink of an eye. And now Tony was alone in his confusion, and he had decided that hate was the only reasonable way to go, here.

It worked, but not much. Tony honestly didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he didn’t regret kissing Steve, or the fact that he really missed him.

Fortunately, Bruce, Rhodey, his profs and all of his classmates were used to his eccentric weirdness. Some irregular behavior didn’t even have them batting an eye anymore.

“You ready?” Rhodey asked as he took a step into Tony’s room.

Tony was standing in front of the mirror, more staring into middle distance than actually looking at his attire.

There was a sigh. “Still thinking about the prof?” Rhodey asked.

Tony glared at him through the mirror. He hadn’t told Rhodey about the kiss—he wasn’t stupid. Rhodey only had to blurt the wrong thing at the wrong time, and Steve really _would_ be in trouble, but he’d told him that, well…

That he might’ve developed a crush that was a tad more serious than his usual infatuations that never lasted longer than one night and a morning.

“Trying not to,” Tony answered and grabbed for his jacket. Before walking out of the room, he gave his newly shaven goatee a last look over. It was still a tiny bit too patchy, all in all, but it did make him look older.

If he left college next week and moved to New York, the new sharpness it brought to his features would be something he’d sorely need.

He and Rhodey made their way towards the parking slot, driving to the club that was just a few miles outside of the MIT campus. He wouldn’t be going to any more frat parties, Tony had decided—avoiding campus life as best as he could. The chance to run into Steve was just too much, and if there was one thing Tony would gladly live without for the rest of his life, it was Steve looking at him with pity.

So clubbing.

It seemed like the reasonable way to go. As Steve had pointed out, he _was_ seventeen, and that meant he had certain cravings. Cravings so prominent Tony was certain he would explode with frustration if he sat at home for one more hour, thinking about how great Steve had tasted and how hot his muscled arms had felt around him. Thinking about Dream-Steve seducing him, undressing him, thrusting inside him. Saying Tony’s name as he came and—

Tony hated him.

He sighed. He had to let go. After all, Steve had been very clear that there was no chance whatsoever. And there were plenty more fish in the sea.

An hour later, Tony was twirling a glass of Gin between his fingers. He wasn’t as drunk as he’d like to be, but Rhodey was having a great time, moving around on the dancefloor with some cute girl, so Tony wouldn’t be the party pooper and tell him he’d prefer to sit at home and sulk, after all.

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Rhodey said and _huh_ , Tony hadn’t even heard him approach. Maybe he was a little tipsy, after all. “You can’t keep telling me that nothing’s wrong, that you just had the hots for art guy and now are over it, and expect me to believe it.”

With that, Rhodey slumped down on the bar stool, and grabbed for the nearly empty Gin glass in front of Tony, swallowing the rest in one go. “Best friend here,” he declared and put the empty glass down. “I’ve known you for over three years now, Tones, and you’ve always bounced back whenever someone turned you down. And now you’re sulking.”

Tony rubbed his forehead, immediately in defense-mode. “I’m not sulking.”

“You are,” Rhodey insisted and leaned even closer. “Are you… I mean, are you actually into that prof? Tones, he has to be at least ten years older than—”

“Look, I don’t wanna do this right now,” Tony blurted. He _really_ didn’t need the reminder. With that, he stood up from the bar stool, eyeing the room in search for…

Random hot chick. Perfect.

“I’d rather…” he said, humming in thought. When the girl caught him looking, a suggestive smile appeared on her face.

“...do her,” he finished and next to him, Rhodey snorted in amusement.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, clasping Tony’s shoulder. Together, they made their way over to the group. The girl was actually really pretty and… in her late twenties, Tony figured, trying not to think too much about why it was so goddamn easy to hook up with people he didn’t want, while he couldn’t even kiss the one he _did_.

 

**Steve**

Steve wasn't a big fan of the partying scene. He never saw much of a point in getting wasted on alcohol. But Bucky loved it, and it was something they could do that didn't involve moping around at home. Steve followed Bucky into the club just after nine thirty, his eyes doing a quick threat assessment sweep through the place.

They made a beeline for the bar soon after. Steve ordered a whiskey and drank it down with a firm, unhappy grimace. He hated alcohol, but he needed something to help him not think about… certain… _things_. Bucky made a low, impressed whistle next to him and ordered a vodka before turning to him. "You don't waste your time, huh?"

Steve shook his head and straightened his back, glancing at his friend with a sardonic smile. "I try not to."

When he turned his gaze on the interior of the club again, this time lingering on the details, he stopped in his tracks. Spotting Tony didn’t take much; he was seated in one of the more prominent couch areas and talking animatedly with an older woman. Just the sight of him, confident and in his element, agitated Steve and wiped the smile off his face. A low buzz started at the base of his skull and maybe he shouldn't have taken that drink so fast. "Buck—"

"Come on, let’s see if we can..." Bucky just started saying, paused, looking at Steve, then following his gaze, which was still fixed on Tony. A beat of silence passed. "So that's—"

"Yeah," Steve said, sounding out of breath. "We should go."

"What?" Bucky exclaimed. "You're gonna let that shrimp drive you away? Not happening. Come on. Let me buy you another drink and you'll forget he exists in no time."

But Steve wasn't listening to what Bucky was saying. He was busy watching as the lady patted Tony and how his hands rested easily on her back. She was definitely too old for Tony. _And so are you_ , he reminded himself as he nodded his head absently, as if only now hearing Bucky.

"You go ahead. I'll join you in a bit," he said, already heading in Tony's direction.

"Wait Steve—" Bucky called after him, but he was out of earshot and didn't hear what he had to say after that.

It took fewer strides than he thought it would to step up to Tony's side. Towering above the duo, Steve glared at Tony, refusing to admit there was more jealousy to his behavior than anything else. He wasn't _that_ guy, usually, but Tony had managed to get under his skin, making himself home there, and now he was acting like nothing had ever happened.

"So," he said, looking to the woman before setting his eyes back on Tony. "You bounce back pretty easy. Good to know." He had his arms crossed in what he knew must be a pretty intimidating stance. He didn't care. The room was slowly getting fuzzy around the edges, but not so much as to really get in the way.

 

**Tony**

Tony stopped in mid sentence when he heard someone raise his voice above the loud techno music right next to their table. He and the girl were alone by now, since Rhodey had discreetly retreated to the dancing floor, and the rest of the girls’ friends had obviously gotten the message and scattered to the other sitting areas.

When Tony realized it was Steve who was towering over them, he had a moment of startling comprehension. And then his eyes went wide as saucers.

Steve was actually here, walking right up to him, and now he was making a scene. A full-out scene, with crossed arms, furrowed brows and heavy breaths. He wasn’t quite yelling, but the sharpness in his tone was painfully obvious. As was his dark expression as he regarded both the girl and Tony.

Steve was _jealous_.

A snicker clawed at Tony’s throat, but he valiantly forced it back down. Instead, he leaned back, aiming for shock and confusion as he looked up at Steve. “There was nothing to bounce back from, was there?”

 

**Steve**

During the few seconds it took Tony to reply, Steve realized his mistake. Not only was he acting like a jealous idiot, but he was risking exposing whatever it was that had never really happened between them. Luckily, Tony supplied him with an easy way to backtrack and Steve tried not to let any of this show on his face or be reflected in his stance. Even if he couldn't have Tony, it didn't mean he would watch others take advantage of him.

"You're right," he said, nodding his head. He looked at the woman, then. She seemed surprised, maybe worried, Steve couldn't bring himself to care. "You just went for the next older blonde you could find."

 

**Tony**

“Excuse me?” the girl all but squeaked, her voice laced with indignation. “I’m not—”

“Look,” Tony said, speaking right over her, because at the moment he couldn’t care less about her delicate sensibilities. “What did you expect, exactly? You made your standpoint _very_ clear, and that wasn’t easy for…” He trailed off as he saw another guy approach their table with visible reluctance and a glass in his hand. He had longish, messy brown hair, a bit of three-day stubble, and oh… only one arm.

Tony frowned at him for a moment, but his eyes were clearly set on Steve and that was… great, really. _Wonderful_. Why the hell was Steve even coming here, snapping at Tony, when he had someone with him?

Tony huffed in distaste, his gaze snapping back at Steve. The other guy wasn’t in hearing range yet, and Tony _knew_ it was a low blow, but if Steve really thought he could come here, and mess up Tony’s boring-but-very-willing date, then he was very _very_ wrong.

“So you’re seeing someone. Is that what it takes to be interesting enough for you?” he asked, his voice spiteful. “Maybe I should enlist after all, huh? Get a little banged up?”

The second the words were out of Tony’s mouth, he regretted them. He couldn’t take it back now, though. Steve had decided to bring them to this level, and if Tony started to cower, he didn’t know if he could keep it together much longer.

 

**Steve**

The shock at what Tony was saying was akin to getting slapped across the face, and Steve stared at him for one, long, disbelieving moment. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching to fists still held tightly in his crossed arms to avoid doing anything stupid. It was much harder than he remembered to keep his anger in check.

"You're dealing with a minor," he said promptly, giving the woman a pointed look. "I'd keep my distance if I were you." He turned on his heels then, only to find Bucky standing a step behind him, just as he’d suspected. Steve clapped his shoulder with a tight lipped expression that showed every ounce of fury Tony's comment had lit up. "Come on."

Bucky didn't say anything to that. Steve wasn't even sure he'd heard what Tony'd said, but _Steve_ had and that was bad enough. They strolled quietly back to the bar and Steve called for another whiskey. Bucky still said nothing, just looked at him with that impassive expression on his face.

"...What?" Steve asked at last, louder than intended, then took a huge, wince inducing gulp from the drink. The burn was less terrible now, but the taste was never one of Steve's favorites.

"You're completely gone on him," Bucky determined, like it was an immovable fact.

"He's obnoxious," Steve ground out, venomous. This stuff was stronger than he'd expected.

"He's a kid, what did you expect? Maturity?" Bucky huffed, taking a sip from his vodka. "Look, I get taunted about it all the time. It's not a big deal."

When Steve looked at him, he was surprised to find Bucky smiling, like someone with a secret, or like someone who was doing better dealing with his own disability that the people around him were.

"It _is_ a big deal, Buck."

"Okay." Bucky sighed, downing what remained of his drink and calling for another. "It's a big deal for you." He turned to look at Steve, leaning his elbow on the counter and a little towards Steve. "But if you're only getting riled up on my account, don't."

Without another word, Steve finished his own drink and ordered a third. If anything, Tony would _not_ get in the way of his Forget-About-Tony plan. Not tonight.

 

**Tony**

The girl didn’t care about Tony’s age, nor did she care about Tony basically just sitting there and staring into space for long minutes after Steve had stormed off.

It was completely surreal and Tony had a hard time figuring out what the hell had just happened. He’d known… or _hoped…_ that Steve hadn’t been wholly unaffected by Tony’s advances, but this—this was making things pretty clear, wasn’t it?

Steve might not have _seemed_ to be into him, but apparently he was… or had been… interested.

At one point, Tony couldn’t take the constant chatter anymore, and told the girl—in not so nice terms—that there wouldn’t be any action tonight. He hadn’t really been into it from the start, and now that Steve was in his line of sight all the time, sitting at the bar, hunched above the glass in his hand, Tony had lost all interest in partying tonight.

He texted Rhodey that he’d be leaving the club in a moment, and only got about a dozen stupid party-emoticons in return.

A sigh rolled off Tony’s shoulders as he looked up, his eyes irrevocably drawn back to Steve. He must be on his third refill, at least, and next to him, the one armed guy was talking to some redheaded woman. And he wasn’t just talking to her, that was obvious flirting going on.

So… maybe he wasn’t Steve’s boyfriend, after all.

That was… irrelevant, Tony guessed, but good to know, anyways. But then the guy was clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder and making to stand up.

Was he _leaving_? The guy was actually leaving Steve and Steve was about to ask for his fourth whatever-it-was. Whiskey, probably.

Tony should just leave the place, call a cab, and go home. But the notion made him shudder with very unfair worry. Steve didn’t seem like the guy who got drunk on a regular basis, and it might just be Tony’s fault he was in this state, intentional or not.

Thus, his body followed first instinct and walked over to Steve, who was now sitting alone at the bar, clearly not in the mood for talking, and still with a slight scowl on his face.

That was a disaster waiting to happen, Tony thought idly, but he couldn’t just let him sit here, either.

“So… this place is overrated, don’t you think?” he asked as he sat down on the stool next to Steve, gently taking the glass out of his hand and putting it aside.

Downing the content himself probably wouldn't be a good move right now.

 

**Steve**

Steve's eyes had been fixed on the glass, but he could tell someone was approaching none the less. He kept on staring even as the glass was taken away. Made no move to retrieve it. Why did Tony come back? Hadn't he done enough damage already?

This wasn't going to end well. Steve was already quite drunk. He wasn't used to drinking, let alone large quantities of the bar's strongest whiskey. His head was heavy and he felt strangely warm. Staying where he was sitting felt like the best plan for him now, and he was intent on doing just that. The world was narrowed down to himself, the counter, and now Tony, who didn't know when to keep his distance, apparently.

The initial idea had been to drink until he didn't care, and then go home. Tony came over before he managed to achieve either feat, but maybe alcohol wouldn't have solved the problem for him in the first place. Something to think about when he was sober, he thought, a slightly goofy smile flitting on his face before he reined it into a more serious expression.

"Most of these places are," Steve told the counter, before turning his head sideways to look at Tony. And sure enough, the guy still looked amazing. It really wasn't fair that he was seventeen. So close and so _wrong_. Steve wondered at that thought. Why _was_ it wrong, again? Why the hell not just go for it? Tony was right there, wasn't he? If Steve made a move, he would probably go with it.

 

**Tony**

Tony hummed in agreement and, after some inner consideration, put a hand on Steve’s right shoulder. “True,” he said, cautiously smiling down at him. He was aware that they were standing on shaky grounds. Hell, Tony was basically jumping up and down on the thin ice of a frozen lake, daring it to break beneath his feet. And he knew there was every chance Steve would go and either laugh at him or give him another one of his ‘I can’t, it’s not right’ speeches.

Still. Tony realized he’d take all that if only Steve wouldn’t be sitting here all night, drowning himself in whatever morals-misery he’d conjured up in his mind.

“How about we get out of here,” Tony suggested eventually, and Steve’s eyes snapped up to him so fast he must’ve been getting whiplash. “Not… like that,” he amended, sighing heavily. “Just, we can grab a cab together? I could bring you home. I think you've had enough, Picasso. _And_ you sort of ruined my game, so you better pay the fare.”

 

**Steve**

Tony's hand was running along his back. Steve was contemplating why his first instinct was to tell Tony to stop. It felt nice, a warmth that was tentative but not intrusive. He was surprised at Tony's bold suggestion, and was slightly amused at the quick backtracking. Did Tony even know what he was asking for when he kept trying to convince Steve this would be a good idea?

"A'ight," Steve said, sliding out of his chair. The floor was not so steady under his feet and he held onto the counter for balance. He paid, then stood more or less upright, glancing at Tony. "After you."

They stepped out onto the sidewalk, Steve minding his steps because the world just seemed to slip sideways every now and again, and walked a few feet from the entrance to look for cabs that might be waiting in the area. Well, _Tony_ was looking around, mostly, while Steve was busy looking at him. Turning his head around didn't feel like a good idea, anyway.

Standing next to one another, Steve had a moment of startled pause when he realized he needed to look down at Tony. They were about a head apart in height, and there was something unfairly alluring to the way Tony lifted his head to look at Steve when he realized he wasn't actually helping with the cab efforts. There was a question in those eyes that Steve knew extended well beyond the here and now, and Steve's eyes flicked to his lips.

No matter how he'd tried to forget about their kiss, it kept pestering him. He hadn't responded at the time, and didn't get a proper taste, and he found that he absolutely couldn't wait to have it. He wouldn't.

Reaching his hands down to rest at Tony's waist, Steve guided him away from the curb and towards the outer wall of the club. "What am I going to do with you…" he mumbled, not sure if it was a question or a complaint or what, but he knew, as soon as he had Tony pinned, that he couldn't turn back now.

His head was spinning and his chest felt uncomfortably hot as he leaned down to kiss Tony, pressing their lips firmly together. A part of him posed an official protest to what was happening, but he couldn't be bothered with whatever the problem might be. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Not nearly as important as kissing Tony was at that moment.

It didn't stop at a simple press of lips, either. Steve had spent long enough thinking about what it might feel like to seriously kiss Tony, that he couldn't stop himself. His tongue pressed forward, sliding easily between pliant lips and tasting, teasing. A small sound left him at the feel of it all. It's been so long since he'd kissed anyone.

 

**Tony**

Tony had a second to realize that yes, this was happening, and before he could blink, Steve was against him, his hands clutching at Tony’s hips and pushing him against the nearest wall. And for a moment—a tiny, insane tick of a moment—Tony managed to think that Steve was drunk and he shouldn’t be taking advantage, but then…

A wave of need shuddered through his body, and shock had him stand perfectly still as Steve pressed his lips against Tony’s. His hands shot out to grasp something solid, which happened to be Steve’s incredibly toned sides.

Hot breaths rocked against Tony’s mouth, and yeah, he was rock-hard in seconds, as he finally— _finally_ —opened up to push his tongue between Steve’s lips. And Steve tasted… well, of whiskey mostly, which wasn’t bad, but there were also a million of other things Tony tried to memorize. The hint of mouthwash, sweat, adrenaline. He was warm and slick, the brush of his lips insistent as his fingers dug more into Tony’s waist as if he’d run away if he didn’t hold on to him.

Tony was very aware of the bulge pressed against his stomach, and slowly, he remembered their not-so-intimate environment. He gasped against Steve’s lips. This was Massachusetts, and the campus was only a few blocks away, and Tony was sort of famous and… this had the potential of getting very bad very fast.

_Really gotta push him away._

God, but Steve was pressing his whole body against him, and a hard whimper tickled Tony’s throat as Steve gently bit into his lower lip. Tony knew he should be doing something—he was the only one remotely sober here—but fuck it all, Steve tasted good. He tasted _so_ good. All this time Tony had hooked up with random guys and girls, he had never felt fire like this.

And Steve was _drunk_.

There was every chance he’d regret this in the morning. Every chance that they’d be back to square one. He had to savor this, had to make use of what he had, had to…

It was that thought that had him pull back reluctantly. He _wouldn’t_ be making use of Steve. He wanted… more than that, he realized a bit hysterically.

“Hey, big guy,” Tony breathed, putting both hands gently on Steve’s cheeks. He was trying to lean in again, but Tony only cast him a calming smile and shook his head. “It’s a bit… public here. Let’s just go home, I’ll call us a cab, alright?”

 

**Steve**

The kiss lasted a long moment, and Steve's intoxicated mind wasn't fully registering everything, only the slick slide of their tongues and a heat that coiled in his abdomen. He wasn't even fully aware of where they were until Tony broke the kiss and pushed him a little back. Steve went easily, not wanting to impose, and he nodded his head at Tony's suggestion. It was a good idea. Privacy would allow for more kissing… more than kissing, maybe…

He pulled back, trying not to stagger too much, though his balance was more shot than he'd realized. He cast Tony an apologetic smile when he felt a steadying hand on his arm. "Thanks," he said, watching as Tony eventually managed to call a cab for them.

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

The ride home was… definitely something. Steve was seated right next to Tony, pressing against him so insistently he was halfway sitting in his lap. They weren’t kissing again, and maybe Tony was paranoid about it, but he _had_ been all over the news in those last days and his age had been a major topic.

He really didn’t want Steve to get in trouble because of him. So better safe than sorry.

As it was, the taxi driver wasn’t paying them any attention, so Tony didn’t mind Steve leaning into him, their hands entwined, their heads so close he could feel each of Steve’s breaths.

“You’re gonna regret this in the morning, hm?” Tony whispered after a while. They’d be at the campus in a few moments, and the idea of bringing Steve to the dorm had quickly flown out of the window. Tony had no idea who they’d be running into, and there was no real explanation why Tony would be letting a professor sleep in his room.

 

**Steve**

"Don't regret it now," Steve said by way of answer. Tomorrow was so far away, and Tony was so close right now. He'd leave worrying about such trivial things for his future self. "Dunno 'bout tomorrow."

 

**Tony**

_Fair enough_ , Tony thought with a small nod. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart and all, right? He believed Steve when he said he wanted this now, and that… would have to be enough. At least Tony knew what he was getting himself into. He just had to brace himself for impact as soon as Steve’s moral compass set into motion once again.

_Won’t have sex with him_ , he decided then and there. It would be too much… for his own heart, and sure as hell for Steve’s fragile conscience. He could take a little shock and guilt in the morning, but if Steve looked at him in horror and self-disgust, that would just be too much.

It took him five whole minutes and a lot of prodding to get Steve’s address. He knew Steve was living at some apartment complex near the arts faculty, and the taxi driver changed route without so much as batting an eye.

“One more step,” Tony said, an arm wound around Steve’s torso, as they walked up the stairway. No elevators, Tony groaned. What kind of a place doesn’t have a fucking elevator? And Steve was very much staggering. When Tony stuck his hand into the back pocket of Steve’s pants to reach for his keys, the guy was snorting against Tony’s neck, pressing against him again. And he was so goddamn cute when he was this carefree, this boisterous and straight-forward, Tony couldn’t help but kiss him again.


	5. Differential Equation

**“Painting is a blind man's profession.”**

— Pablo Picasso

 

**Steve**

The first thing Steve noticed upon waking up was a deep pounding ache in the crown of his head. He immediately noticed other, more alarming facts about his situation. He had a leg and an arm slung snugly around a very warm, very firm shape of a person, and his other hand was completely numb, serving as a cushion for his head. He was shirtless… and also pressing his hard-on against his captive's backside.

It was the last part that finally forced him to crack his eyes open to face the offending dim light filtering through his shutters into the room. Clutched in his octopus grip was none other than Tony Stark.

 

**Tony**

A wave of contentedness accompanied Tony upon awakening. He’d been dozing on and off for the better part of the morning, relishing in Steve’s warmth and the way he had himself wrapped around Tony fully.

He’d never really been a cuddler in bed, he prefered his own space, hadn’t once managed to fall asleep as long as there was another person pressed up against him, and yet… here he was. Tangled into Steve and sleeping like a baby.

The fact that Steve had unconsciously been rubbing his dick against him for almost half an hour didn’t exactly make it easier to lie still, but Tony had made the decision to drag this out as long as he could.

 

**Steve**

It was only years of carefully practiced self control that stopped Steve from scrambling out of the bed in a feat of surprised shock. Instead, he made to disentangle himself from the sleeping form and lay flat on his back, his breath instantly rocketing into panic-mode as he waited for his arm to stop tingling, for his erection to subside, and for the gaps in his memory of last night to fill in completely.

He'd kissed Tony, more than once, but… he couldn't remember much past the point they'd gotten into his apartment. He sent a nervous glance in Tony's direction. Tony was wearing a plain t-shirt and boxers, which amped Steve's suspicion higher. _Oh God…_

 

**Tony**

_Here it goes_ , Tony thought, pressing his eyes closed. He’d known it’d happen, and while that didn’t make it hurt any less, he at least knew what to expect now.

It didn’t take Steve longer than five seconds before he’d let go of Tony fully and retreated to his side of the bed. Last night had felt… right. It terrified him, in some ways. Those last years, he’d spent so much time building an impenetrable wall around his heart. Ever since his parents had died, he’d figured it would be better not to get too close and personal, and it had never felt right when he was sharing himself with someone.

Not until Steve.

Taking a low breath, Tony turned around, not really caring that he was still hard as well, and looked at Steve. He was staring at him with wide eyes and there was definitely shock there, and panic, so much in fact, that there was no room for anything else yet.

Tony licked his lips, trying for a small smile. “Morning,” he greeted quietly. “I’d say… don’t freak out, but that didn’t work out so well for me last time.”

 

**Steve**

Steve stared at him for all of a minute, taking in the timid uncertainty in Tony's eyes and the fragility there and damn him for somehow bringing the kid into his home, into his bed and worst of all, into his heart. He shook his head as if to clear it. He couldn't for the life of him remember what they'd done last night.

"I didn't freak out last time," was all Steve could come up with to say as he sat up. Whatever had happened, he needed to know, and he'd face the consequences, but he still couldn't bring himself to be harsh or outright cruel towards him… despite the fact that if the knowledge they'd just shared a bed like this, however innocently, ever came out, he'd be in deep trouble. "Did we…" He waved a hand between them in a vague gesture to emphasize the question.

 

**Tony**

“...have sex?” Tony prompted, raising an eyebrow at Steve. The question had pretty much been burning in his eyes since their gazes had clashed, so it wasn’t hard to guess what he was asking for.

Sure enough, Steve nodded, the motion tense, and Tony heaved a breath before answering. “No, we didn’t,” he said. “You were drunk, I’m not an asshole…”

 

**Steve**

The relief that washed over Steve was tainted with guilt. What did it matter, really, if they'd actually had sex or not? The only reason it mattered was that at least Steve didn't forget something as important as that. Morally speaking, the lines had been crossed long before he'd even brought Tony into his home. Legally speaking, he would already be in trouble if Tony chose to expose what had been going on between them.

Looking at Tony, he sighed, then hummed an affirmative. Tony would never do that. As he so eloquently stated, he truly wasn't an asshole. Steve shifted, letting his legs fall over the edge of the bed and settle on the floor. He didn't want to be doing this, but he had to. Tony shouldn't even be here. "I'm sorry, Tony," he said, hearing his own voice waver a little with his resolve. "But you should probably leave."

 

**Tony**

Tony fought back the urge to just roll on his side and hug Steve, beg him not to cut him off again, but he knew it was futile. He could practically hear the wheels in Steve’s head spinning, could hear him scolding himself, tormenting him with what-ifs, and Tony was sure the second he’d touch him, he would freak out completely.

Raising a hand, Tony scrubbed it over his forehead, sighing. “I’m… I just want to… apologize, for what I said about your friend yesterday. Don’t know if you remember—"

 

**Steve**

"I remember," Steve said, recalling that part of the night was easy. He'd been acting on impulse and making a fool of himself, but he hadn’t been all that intoxicated, yet, so the memory of it was as vivid and embarrassing as memories could be. "Tony, please…"

 

**Tony**

He bit his lower lip, barely trusting his voice to be steady enough to go on. He wouldn’t be crying now, he told himself firmly, not understanding how and when he’d gotten so emotional over someone he’d never really had a chance with from the beginning.

“And I know you can’t do this,” he started, staring into distance. “But I… I just wanna say that I don’t regret it.” He smiled, forced himself to, really. “Kissing you was great. Greater than pretty much everything I’ve ever done so far so… yeah. I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, more to himself, as he made to sit up. "I know I was a bit of an asshole yesterday, but you surprised me, with the whole, well, dramatic scene and all. And I didn’t mean to insult your friend,” he added, needing to explain, even though it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

 

**Steve**

Tony was a whirlwind of words that kept pouring, one thought after the other, not letting Steve's still hungover brain catch up. He didn't really… _regret_ kissing Tony, and that wasn’t much of a surprise. What he did regret, though, was having to reject Tony a second time.

It had been unfair of him to let it get to this point in the first place.

When Tony sat up, Steve turned to look at him. "I shouldn't be wanting this," he told him slowly, surprised at his own words. Some part of him _wanted_ to give this a chance, but he couldn't— _shouldn't_. "I shouldn't be encouraging you… getting your hopes up." He scratched at the side of his head. Proper words weren't forthcoming. "Kissing you, sharing a bed with you… I need to keep my distance so we can both carry on with our lives—"

 

**Tony**

“I get it, Picasso,” Tony said, clipped, as he pulled on his pants with sharp movements. The air felt cold against his skin. There was a lump in his throat and he felt barren and exposed. He knew this wasn’t just a crush anymore, maybe it never had been, and if not with words, his act had just unveiled that part of himself he’d tried to keep secret. To keep himself from being hurt.

It was his own fault for allowing himself to fall in love with Steve, but it was also Steve's for allowing it to happen. And he was tired of Steve’s back and forth, tired of this dancing around each other.

This really had to stop.

Tony just managed to zip himself up before he opened the door to the next room. The room that was both kitchen and living room… and also occupied by two people with fewer clothing than even he and Steve had woken up with.

“Uh, hi,” Tony managed as he frowned at one-arm guy and redheaded-hottie who stood there in a long shirt and not much else. He shook his head at the scene, then walked past the kitchen isle, heading towards the exit.

 

**Steve**

It was a mistake, kicking Tony out like this. But by the time Steve’s hungover brain realized that, Tony was all but jogging out of his room. Steve opened his mouth just as Tony disappeared behind the doorframe and he scrambled to follow him out of the bedroom. _Shit!_

"Wait!" he called after Tony, not minding that he was only in his sleeping pants as he hurried along. When he walked by the kitchen, he only saw a dash of red fly past, heard Bucky calling "Nice!" after him, but by the time he reached the front door, it had slammed shut.

He couldn't pursue Tony in the street, especially not half naked and barefoot, but even if he were decently clothed, a scene like that would be suspect. Steve slammed his fist against the door, frustrated. "Fuck!"

Silence fell in the house, and Steve stayed at the door for a long moment, cursing his own goddamn morality, and his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. He straightened then, rolling back his shoulders. He'd have to find Tony later today at the lab and hash it out, that was all.

A whistle from behind him made Steve whirl around. Bucky stood at the mouth of the corridor, a redheaded woman standing beside him and the two looked oddly fitting. Steve marked the mussed look about his friend, who was as shirtless as Steve was. The redhead woman lifted an eyebrow when no one immediately spoke and turned to Bucky.

"Your roommate always such a charmer?" she asked.

"He's usually more composed," Bucky said with a mischievous grin. "How did you even get from ready to punch him in the face to…" He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"Whiskey," Steve said, shaking his head. "And nothing happened."

Bucky sighed, glancing at Natasha. "See, if it were anyone else I'd be calling bullshit. But with this guy..." He shook his head regretfully. The redheaded lady crossed her arms and tapped a forefinger over her bicep, a universal expectation position that had Bucky trail off, then clear his throat.

"Right, uh, Steve, this is Natasha. Natasha, Steve." Bucky kept the introductions mercifully short, and while Natasha made no move to shake Steve's hand, she did smile at him, so Steve decided to put her on the okay-list and gave her a small smile in return.

When neither moved and the silence stretched between them, Bucky shook his head. "So, how bad was it?" he asked, indicating the door. Steve only lowered his head, and said nothing.

"That bad, huh…" Bucky seemed to consider for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, sit down, let's talk."

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

Tony wasn’t paying much attention to Dr. Reif, MIT’s president—he didn’t even try pretending. Instead he just stared off into space, blocking whatever Obi had to say, as thoughts about this morning filtered through his mind. He tried not to think about Steve, tried to think about _anything_ other than the feeling of his arms wrapped around him, but it seemed fruitless.

Getting his second doctorate had been pretty uneventful, all things considered. He’d written his dissertation ages ago, and with his project finished, Tony was only asked a bunch of questions and then filled out some forms. They handed him his certificate, congratulated him for about four hours and that was it.

He was barely aware of the others standing up until Obi tapped his foot against Tony’s. Reif was offering him his hand, smiling kindly. “Mister Stark, we are always very proud of all our PhD graduates and the high-quality research they produce for their theses. MIT as a community strives to develop the ability and passion to work for the betterment of humankind in each of our members. But I have to say that… _your_ work is truly a one of a kind moment even for such a venerable university as MIT.”

Tony nodded his head politely. “Thanks, I had a… good time here. I appreciated the freedom to work on my own projects. And Dr. Banner was a huge help from the start. You should really give him a raise.”

Reif smiled. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Tony hurried after Obi as he told someone on the phone that they’d be at Stark Industries’ New York headquarter in under an hour. He just left the building, obviously expecting Tony to follow after him. Which he did, of course. He followed him across the front of the building, down a lane and to a black limousine.

“Get in,” he told Tony, grinning as he unlocked the passenger-side door. “The chopper is waiting for us.”

“I thought I could at least say goodbye to Rhodes,” Tony said, unable to contain his annoyance. He’d known Obi would be like this as soon as Tony got his papers and he could finally dig his claws into him but still… He surely could at least wrap things up here on his own time, right?

“We have an appointment with the board, my boy,” Obi told him absently, sitting down and starting the car. “Don’t forget your seatbelt, don’t want our wonderboy to get hurt, do we?”

Tony sighed, obediently buckling himself in. He could practically see the dollar signs in Obi’s eyes. Could see the dozens new weapons schematics he was going to want from him asap. Could see himself sitting in some lab, with a bunch of assistants he’d boss around… could see himself getting indifferent to the pains and horrors his inventions would cause…

Obi didn’t seem too eager to talk as they drove across the campus, students mingling all around and the trees surrounding the little park areas displaying their fall colors of red and gold. He was just staring on the road, only occasionally glancing down at his watch.

In the far distance, Tony could see the Arts Faculty. It was already late afternoon, but the auditoriums were still lit, and Tony knew from a little hack into Steve’s schedule that he had classes on late Monday.

Sighing, Tony rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t even managed to organize DUM-E’s transportation to New York, yet.

“Stop at the lab,” Tony said before he’d even made the conscious decision to speak up. He couldn’t just leave like this, no matter how chaotic things had gotten in those last weeks. Rhodey he could call, sure, and he’d already invited Bruce to meet him at his lab in New York next week, but Steve…

Even if he couldn’t do it face to face, he had to leave him some form of goodbye.

Obi raised a brow as he regarded him. “I told you I’ve made an appointment with the board. You have to show up at least once.”

“I will, don’t worry. I just have to say goodbye to someone,” Tony said, his voice resolute, and before Obi could open his mouth again, he talked right over him: “That’s not up for discussion. We make that one detour, it’ll take about ten minutes. Here—next one left.”

 

* * *

 

**Steve**

The conversation with Bucky boiled down to a few words: _Get your head outta ya ass, Rogers._

Steve didn't need a talk with his best friend for that, but it was a nice distraction. They had something to eat before Steve got ready to leave for work. He'd planned to squeeze in a bit of gym time before work, but with his head still tender with post intoxication, he decided it would be best not to test his limits.

Teaching had gone by easy enough, his students as quiet and uninvolved as ever. Steve had tried to make the subject more appealing, really, but how many people out there could say they had a passion for history? And a specific subsection of it, for that matter, was all the more boring for them.

After class, Steve retreated to the art studio. It was his place to find peace of mind.

 

* * *

 

Steve was sitting in front of his favorite easel, a canvas set in place and a brush in his hand. The page was still perfectly white and Steve was stalling, not wanting to taint it just yet. For the better part of the last hour he'd been trying to decide what method he felt like going with. Eventually, he put down the brush and reached for a pencil, giving it a considering look.

A sharp, grey line sliced the canvas diagonally. He had to start the damn picture somewhere. Steve stared at the line with a frown. Why were things never just… simple, in his life? And _why_ couldn't he get Tony out of his head? _Tony…_ his small frame fitting perfectly against Steve's own, so warm and precious. The memory was so sudden, so potent that it had Steve gasping.

God, was Tony attractive. His ridiculous facial hair aside, the kid had everything going for him in the looks department. Sharp features, dark skin, deep brown eyes, slim waist, nimble fingers…

Another line appeared on the canvas, and then a rounded shape on one corner, before Steve paused to look at it again. This wasn't going anywhere, figuratively and practically. The lines did nothing to work with one another, it was just raw feeling, and Steve knew he was too scatter-minded to get anything meaningful out of it.

A few slow breaths later, he shook his head. "I don't know," he told the painting. "What _do_ you want to be?"

A whirring sound distracted Steve just as he was ready to press his pencil to the surface again. He turned around and looked at the door to the workshop. The handle jumped a few times before opening. By then, Steve was already on his feet, ready to take on whoever it was, but was shocked to stillness when he saw the robotic arm Tony had built rolling into the room like he owned the place.

"DUM-E?" He blinked, looking around. "Where's Tony?" Because obviously Tony would have to be in the vicinity if DUM-E was set loose on campus. "Did you get lost?"

DUM-E wheeled over to Steve, only stopping when he'd bumped into him, making him chuckle and sit down again. He watched as DUM-E came closer and lifted his arm, revealing a plain white envelope pasted to the main strut.

"What's that?" Steve asked, reaching for it and removing it carefully. On the front of the envelope, the word _Steve_ was written in what he could only guess was Tony's best attempt at legible handwriting. "That's it? You're the first true A.I. in the world, scientific wonder, and he's got you on delivery-boy status?" Steve chuckled at the thought and patted DUM-E's arm. "Thanks, buddy."

He inspected the envelope from all directions. It was flat and thin, clearly only containing a few slips of paper which Steve removed and turned to read.

 

 

 

_ _

 

 

Steve stared at the letter for a long moment, sorting out his thoughts. He'd never gotten a goodbye letter before, and the sense of finality to it was both terrible and unbelievable.

Sliding the papers back into the envelope, Steve carefully set it into his bag and got to his feet. "Watch the fort while I'm gone," he told DUM-E, watching the little wave-twirl thing the machine did with a small smile, before turning to leave. He tried not to seem too much in a rush as he hurried for Bruce's lab.

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

“Have you worked here long?” Tony asked, as he walked out of the conference room. The first board meeting had lasted for a whole of three hours. It was late evening already, and there had been minor debates on Tony’s role in the company, some back and forth, but in the end, Tony figured he could probably work with those people. And maybe, he thought, _maybe_ things weren’t that bad after all.

“A while,” the woman next to him said, casting him a smile.

Pepper Potts was… a tornado on high heels. Obi had repositioned her as Tony’s assistant, which was, as far as Tony could tell for now, the one single good thing he’d done in a whole long while.

“And you like it?” he asked, glancing back at her. Together, they stepped into the elevator and Pepper pressed the button that’d bring them to Tony’s new workshop.

She was quiet for a moment, eyeing him curiously. Then, she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “It has its advantages, yes.”

Tony hummed, leaning back against the wall. He grabbed for his tie, loosening it a little. Wearing suits almost every day would take some getting used to, but it had only taken this one meeting to see how it changed the way people reacted to his presence. To see how they were inclined to listen to what he said, and if he had to be uncomfortable for that, then so be it.

He figured Obi had only wanted to introduce him real quick—the new golden goose that'd make the rich even richer—but Tony had taken one good look at his board, and decided then and there that things wouldn’t play out like that.

This was _his_ company. _He_ was the heir. And it might take a while, but he had Bruce, and a few other MIT alumnis that might be interested in working for the company.

There were… options. Vague options for now. But options nevertheless.

“And if things… would change a little?” he asked, his voice non-committal.

The flimsy smile on Pepper’s face turned a little wider. “My resume says I’m very adaptable.”

Tony snorted, and together, they made their way into the workshop floor.

“I like you, Potts.”

She chuckled. “Glad to hear that, Mister Stark.”

This… really wasn’t too bad. And maybe the whole getting himself acquainted with SI’s structures and hierarchies would make him forget about… other things.

And if it didn’t, well… he still had a new project he needed to start working on.

 

* * *

 

**Steve**

Steve walked into his apartment, his step heavy and his shoulders hunched. He dropped his bag just a short way from the door and walked over to slump down in his sofa. The house was quiet, and Steve absently wondered if Bucky was out with Natasha. It was nice to know Bucky was starting to get things under control, at least. True, finding a job was still a struggle, but it looked like the dark cloud over Bucky had passed, and that renewed optimism found its place. In time, Steve hoped, things would turn out for the best for his friend.

The thought brought a slight smile to his face, before he remembered the letter, and _Tony_. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. How could he have been so stupid?

"You look like shit," Bucky greeted as he walked in from the corridor. He was holding two beer bottles in his hand as he approached, and handed one to Steve.

"Thanks," Steve said, then lifted the bottle to his lips. Harsh honesty had always been the way to go between them before the accident, and Steve, still getting used to having Bucky around after such a long time, appreciated the consistency. "Feel shittier."

"No luck finding the twink?"

"Bucky…" Steve groaned. He leaned back when Bucky sat next to him and turned to meet his laughing eyes. "You can't say things like that… I already feel like a goddamn pervert."

That only made Bucky laugh heartily and clap his back. Steve had realized early on that Bucky had seemingly retained his power and his physique, which was all kinds of impressive.

"You think you're the only pervert around?" Bucky asked when Steve gave him his best offended look. "Besides, it's not like you're going after a kindergarten kid here. He's gonna be legal in a few months."

"Doesn’t matter, anyway," Steve mumbled and drank a little more. “He’s gone.”

Bucky paused, surprised, his eyes wide as he stared at his friend. "What do you mean 'gone'? What did you do?"

"I pushed him away, Buck. For good..." He sighed and shook his head, getting up and going to fetch his bag.

Steve deposited his bottle on the table when he came back and rummaged through the bag before pulling out the letter and handing it over to Bucky.

Bucky's eyes flew over the text for a moment, then he looked at Steve. " _Dude_."

"I know…" Steve said, rubbing a hand over his shoulder and squinting to keep in check whatever emotion was trying to burst through. "It's over."

Bucky dropped the letter and reached over, grabbing Steve's t-shirt collar with an iron grip. "How you survived so long without me is a mystery," Bucky hissed, then slid off the couch. "Go get dressed. Wear something nice. We're leaving in half an hour."

"Leaving? Buck what-—"

"You're only gonna sit there and mope, and then you're going to waste months of your life wondering what if and I can't sit here and let that happen. He invited me to SI? Well, guess what: I'm going. And you're coming with."

"But that's a five hour drive! And he invited _you_ , not me..."

"See this?" Bucky pointed to his missing arm. "I'm a disabled man, Steve. I need escort." And there was no venom in his voice, nor his expression. If anything, the tilt of his head and quirk of lips read more like amusement. "This is non-negotiable so get your ass off that couch. Thirty minutes. Go."

It was instinct that took over and made Steve move, despite his unease, and simply do as Bucky ordered.

Funny how some things never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our thanks extended to the anon who agreed to put his handwriting for the world to see.   
> And thank you for reading so far! We'll be posting the next chapter sometime this week.


	6. Melting Point

 

 

**“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”**

— Vincent Van Gogh

 

**Tony**

It was well into the night, and Tony was sitting alone in his new workshop. Pepper had given him a short tour, but it was already way past working hours, so Tony had sent her home. A workshop was a workshop was a workshop, and though this one was distinctively fancier than Bruce’s lab at MIT, he could figure out the details by himself.

The room was silent, and Tony sat hunched over one of the working tables, staring at the schematics in front of him. It was unexpectedly easy to focus on this. After spending weeks upon weeks on DUM-E, trying to solve thousands of glitches, letting himself get lost in a completely new project was… liberating.

This was going to be good, he thought, smiling at the blueprint. Too expensive for mass production, but that was something he could work on later. For now, the functionality was all that mattered, and this… would be _rad_. He ordered the parts on his private account. There was no need for Obi to know about this, he figured. It wouldn’t exactly be something that’d pique his interest.

When Tony stood up, stretching his arms and kneading the muscles in his neck, he jumped a mile when the room’s speakers suddenly gave off a low beep.

“Mister Stark?” an unfamiliar female voice said a second later.

He frowned, then cleared his throat. Right. Pepper had said something about the room having no phones and he’d be contacted via the speakers, instead. Stepping up to the monitor that was installed next to the workshop’s exit doors, Tony activated the camera, then looked up at the face of one of the tower’s receptionists. “Yeah?”

“Sir, I apologize for the late intrusion. There’s a Sergeant James Barnes for you,” she explained, smiling apologetically. “Miss Potts told me to give him access to your private elevators. Will you receive him now, or should he come back during office hours?”

Tony blinked and only stared at the woman’s face for what felt like an eternity. _Barnes?_ That was… really not who he’d expected. He thought he’d only be seeing him in a few weeks, or months, even. And he’d planned to have some kind of prototype ready, not just a first rough blueprint. The fact that he was here, _now_ , just short of a day after Tony had stormed out of his and Steve’s apartment, and well in the middle of the night, could only mean one thing.

“Is he alone?” Tony asked, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew the answer even before reception-lady confirmed that _no_ , there was also a friend of Barnes, some blonde muscled guy.

That was great. _Perfect_. Couldn’t Steve let him get a breather? Tony was _trying_ , wasn’t he? He’d done this the adult way, for once in his life, trying to get closure, be nice about it, even while everything inside him was screaming and crying and hating the world that the first damn time he’d fallen in love his feelings were very much rejected.

He’d _ignored_ all that, and he tried to move on now. Couldn’t Steve tell that this wouldn’t exactly be helpful?

Tony sighed, his head dropping. “Send them down to the workshop. The door’s open,” he said, then typed in the code that made the glass front open up.

“Very well, Mister Stark.”

The line went dead after that, and Tony walked to his chair, picking up his suit jacket and slipping back into it. He adjusted his tie and took a glance into one of the blackened monitors in front of him.

Well… at least, he’d look the part.

 

**Steve**

This could not be a good idea, Steve thought as he followed Bucky's confident stride towards the elevator. For a man whose life wasn't exactly on the right track, Bucky had a carefree air about him that Steve envied, and the thought made him shake his head at himself. Envied Bucky? Really?

"I shouldn't have come here," he muttered. What good would it do? Tony'd just turn him out as soon as he saw him, or worse, scream his head off for showing up in the first place, and he'd deserve it. Bucky just made an annoyed sound in response and pressed the button for the appropriate floor.

There was no conversation after that, and they ended up walking into the workshop a few moments later. "This Tony Stark's lab?" Bucky called from the doorway, as they both glanced into the room.

 

**Tony**

Tony heard someone calling and squared his shoulders as he walked towards the elevators. He spotted the two of them standing in the foyer, looking a bit lost before they noticed him approaching.

He tried to come up with a witty line, as his eyes met Steve’s, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was: “That’s not how I imagined this day would end.”

 

**Steve**

Tony was wearing a _suit_.

That was the first thing Steve could even think about, his mouth going dry. The guy looked like he was taken right out of a magazine, even now, late in the evening. Steve wanted to reach for him, trace the fine fabric that hugged that body just right. He'd only seen bits of what Tony looked like naked, but the idea of undressing him _now_ felt all the more appealing. Steve took a deep breath, reining himself in, before he could move and embarrass himself by trying to touch Tony.

"Me neither," Steve supplied weakly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You mentioned a surprise," he said with an impatient huff. “I'm really not the most patient guy out there.”

Steve bit his tongue at that comment. He wasn't sure Tony'd be happy knowing Bucky'd read his letter, but now it was out there and he had to brace for whatever reaction that would cause.

 

**Tony**

Tony’s lips twisted into a smile. At least that answered the question of whether or not DUM-E had managed to deliver his message. Good for the bot… probably _not_ that good for himself.

It was hard to say how much Barnes knew. Steve had always seemed to be the sort of man who kept his emotions close to the heart, but the two clearly had known each other for a while, so Barnes might as well have read the letter himself.

As it was, Tony wouldn’t ask about it, and he figured neither of the two would give him some pointers, so he’d just… keep this on a professional level. Show Barnes the schematics, take his measurements, deliver the prosthesis in a few weeks, and that would be it.

Just another project. He could do that.

“To be honest, I didn’t really think you’d turn up here right away,” Tony said, tone friendly. He motioned for the two of them to step inside. “I only just started working on it a few hours ago and I… don’t have much to show yet. Basically, I only have rough schematics and those aren’t all that impressive.”

 

**Steve**

"That's alright," Bucky said with a shrug. Steve didn't know what Tony's surprise was all about, and Bucky would have even less of an idea. They both followed Tony quietly further into the lab, and Steve tried to not look too curious about all the new things in the large space.

 

**Tony**

They trailed after him as he made his way towards his main workstation and only stopped when Tony turned around again, the blueprint in his hand.

He suddenly wished he could’ve had more time to build a prototype. The schematic _was_ amazing, groundbreaking even, when it came to artificial limbs, but to someone not so well versed in mechanical engineering, it might just be the sketch of a robot arm.

“It might not look like much to you, yet, but I promise it will blow your mind,” Tony said, not even trying to tone down his excitement. False modesty had never been his strongest suit.

He took a breath, trying to ignore Steve’s intense stare, then handed Barnes the blueprint. “If you let me take your measurements today, I could have a first prototype by the end of the month.”

 

**Steve**

Bucky was staring at the blueprint. Steve peered at it over his shoulder, and then fell very still. It didn't look like a simple prosthetic that would just sit there to give Bucky a more or less 'normal' silhouette. Steve glanced at Bucky. They'd discussed the reasons why Bucky wasn't using one and he'd been quite clear about it.

This, however, looked like it might be… more.

"This… It's… Is this a cybernetic arm?" Bucky asked, sounding cautiously reserved. Steve knew better, though. Bucky had always been a huge sci-fi geek, and his eyes were getting larger by the second.

 

**Tony**

Tony smiled at Barnes’ wide eyes, then stepped up next to him. That wasn’t excitement yet, but he hadn’t turned on his heels and left, so Tony counted it a win.

“Bionic, actually,” he said, pointing down at the upper part of the prosthesis. “I think I found a way to link the arm’s grip patterns and movement mechanisms straight to your nervous system, no surgery needed. If this works out the way I plan—and it usually does—it will react and move just like a normal arm. It might be a little heavier in the current configuration, but I think I can work out the kinks before you do your first test run.”

Barnes had gone completely still next to him, and Tony furrowed his brows when he didn’t show any reactions even after a few seconds had passed.

“Look, I know it’s a bit hard to visualize all of this from a schematic alone, but… uh… I really think you might like it.”

 

**Steve**

Bucky was very still for a long moment and Steve reached over to grasp his shoulder. He didn't know what to say. It was easy to see how much it moved Bucky that someone would think to make his life easier this way. The set of his jaw was evidence enough that he was exerting some self control to not react on emotion alone.

"Why would you go to the trouble of designing this for me?" Bucky asked, not even bothering to wonder if it was indeed designed for him. Bucky was usually not the kind of guy to ask pointless questions or beat around the bush.

 

**Tony**

Tony paused, frowning at the question. He hadn’t really expected having to explain his motivations, but... He _could_ be saying that he’d felt bad about talking in the way he had about Barnes’ disability. He could also be saying that he was head over heels for Steve and a childish part of him had wanted him to be proud and, yeah, maybe grateful.

But that wasn’t the real reason. At the end of the day, Tony was a scientist, an inventor.

He fixed things.

Shrugging slightly, he stared down at the blueprint. “It was a problem I could solve.”

 

**Steve**

Steve wanted to hug him just then. Not anything but an affectionate, proud hug.

For a moment no one spoke, and then Bucky shifted his weight and sniffed a quick breath through his nose. "Give me your phone," he said, holding out his hand for it, and Steve smiled as he realized Bucky was trembling a little.

When Tony handed it over, looking confused, Bucky quickly swiped through menus and typed something in. Then, he handed it back. "That's my number. Call me when you've got a prototype for me to try."

Steve was about to say something when Bucky continued talking. "You… got a bathroom somewhere around here?" he asked, tone brisk and just a little too tight.

Steve watched his closely controlled face, once more resisting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder.

 

**Tony**

“Uh, yeah,” Tony answered, and awkwardly pointed to a door on the other side of the workshop. “Over… there.”

As soon as the words had left his lips, Barnes set into motion, walking across the room in quick, even strides. Tony looked after him for a moment, before he glanced back up at Steve, wholly confused.

“I think I just broke your friend.”

 

**Steve**

Steve laughed at that. "Takes a lot more than that to break Bucky Barnes. He appreciates it, don’t worry," he said, turning to Tony fully. "I don't know what to say. This is…" He hesitated, looked at the blueprints so that he wouldn't have to look at Tony when he continued talking, finally deciding to steer the conversation towards their own predicament. "You—you left so quickly…"

 

**Tony**

Tony closed his eyes briefly, trying hard to compose himself. _Here we go_ , he thought, and only barely fought the urge to simply turn around and stalk out of the room.

“I had a… busy schedule today,” he offered quietly, putting the blueprints back down on the table. And it wouldn’t have been of much use to linger, trying to get close to someone who was clearly uncomfortable about it, would it?

 

**Steve**

Steve nodded his head. _Busy…_ Yeah, it sure seemed that way. He wanted to say something, but words always seemed clumsy and rarely worked for him unless he used them to motivate troops—and later in his life, students—towards a clear goal.

A moment passed, and Steve decided to let actions speak. It wouldn't be the first time he worked on nothing but instinct. Moving slowly so Tony wouldn't be surprised and could stop him if he wanted to, Steve reached to hug him.

 

**Tony**

He couldn’t help it—the second Tony saw Steve approaching, moving to close his arms around him, he tensed. He felt his controlled composure slip, felt his stoic expression crumble, and put both hands on Steve’s chest, keeping him at a distance.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Tony asked, despair leaking into his voice. “I’m _still_ a minor. I’m _still_ seventeen fucking years old, Steve. I’m gonna _be_ seventeen years old for the next few months, and I’m not gonna miraculously change the day I turn eighteen, either. I can’t… I can’t stand this on and off thing anymore. I can’t have you want me, and then freak out about my age a few minutes later. That’s… I was trying to let you off the hook, for god’s sake!”

 

**Steve**

Standing back, Steve raised his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. He could easily hear the anger and frustration in Tony’s voice, the hurt. Steve bit his lower lip and nodded his head to show he understood. Still, he stayed as close as Tony allowed him to be.

"You're right," he said, looking at Tony's face, meeting his eyes. "There must be something wrong with me." Tony opened his mouth at that, looking about ready to yell at him, but Steve held up his hand to stop him. "I've been thinking about the first time I met DUM-E… The way you kissed me. And how I reacted…" He paused, lowering his gaze once more. Clearing his throat, he scratched the side of his head. This had been far easier in theory than in practice. "The thing is, I was angry with myself for leading you on, even though I knew I hadn't actually given you any hints that I was interested…"

 

**Tony**

Steve trailed off for a moment, and Tony was trying to read his expression, but his eyes were cast to the floor, and this was all… really fucking cryptic, wasn’t it?

“I have… I don’t know what you’re trying to say Steve,” he prompted cautiously. "You told me to leave, remember?"

 

**Steve**

Steve nodded his head, still not meeting Tony's eyes. He'd been doing this all wrong from the beginning, hadn't he? "What I’m trying to say is… well… When Bucky and I first met, we thought we were invincible. We were best friends, inseparable, and stayed that way for twenty years. And when the thing… happened," which Tony probably knew about, if he'd read Steve’s file, "instead of dealing with what was happening to my best friend, I ran away. Couldn't face him.”

Steve paused, looking up again. There was something akin to understanding dawning on Tony’s face.

"I guess I was doing the same thing to you. I wanted…" He paused, grasping for a proper way to express this. "I _wanted_ to accept your offers, to flirt back like everything was okay, but it wasn’t all that easy for me. I tried keeping it professional but didn't _want_ to. You’re so brilliant, and attractive… and really only a part time-asshole."

Tony chuckled at that, and Steve tried for a small smile. "After Bucky came to live with me, everything kind of tipped out of balance.” He paused, taking a deep breath and finally met Tony's eyes. “You asked what's wrong with me. The answer is that I got scared. And I made decisions based on that fear. Mistakes, really. And I'm sorry I put you through that." He lowered his hands and leaned a little against Tony's hands, just enough to bring attention back to their close proximity. "I'd like to make it right, if you'd let me."

 

**Tony**

Tony’s hands—still resting on Steve’s chest—dug into him a little at those words, and he could feel Steve’s heart beating beneath his fingers.

His mind was racing, and a part of him didn’t want to believe Steve’s words. Didn’t want to once more get his hopes up with Steve and then have him crushing them afterwards…

The other part, however, was already hopping up and down excitedly, not understanding his reservations in the slightest.

“I thought you wanted to let me down easy?” Tony asked, his eyes wide and imploring. Every fiber in him needed Steve to tell him that _no_ , that wasn’t the case at all. “You looked about ready to bolt when you noticed me lying next to you. And I… understand your concern, I do. But Steve… if you have to fight some inner war with yourself every time you touch me, that’s… not all that flattering, really. I’m seventeen, sure, but I’m also _me_ , and I want someone who actually _wants_ to be with me.”

 

**Steve**

Shaking his head, Steve reached up to grasp the wrist of the hand over his heart, keeping it firmly in place.

"When I woke up I was hungover, and parts of the night were missing. I panicked," he said, smiling ruefully at him. "I tried to let you down easy, yes. But I knew right away that it wouldn't sell. I was already… too invested. I wanted to take it back but by then you were already gone."

He loosened the hold on Tony's hands slightly, giving him that opt-out, if he truly wanted it. "And I'll understand if you don't want to take that risk anymore, but I can promise you that as far as I'm concerned, your age won't matter anymore."

 

**Tony**

“You’re serious,” Tony said, feeling the resolution he’d tried to hold on to, namely to not let Steve get to him again, disappear completely. He turned his hand in Steve’s grasp, moving it until he could gently stroke Steve’s knuckles.

“So,” Tony prompted, unable to hold back a small smile. “If for some reason, I happened to kiss you again, you wouldn’t object, is that it? Maybe you would even… encourage such scandalous behavior.”

 

**Steve**

Steve bit his lower lip. Tony's seduction tactic was so easy to roll with. He tried taking that extra step closer again, counting on Tony's words to mean that it was okay. The light touches were making his heart rate skyrocket, but that was okay, too. It was an excitement he couldn't remember ever experiencing before, and he welcomed it.

"Maybe you talk too much," he said, lifting his other hand to rest on Tony's cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

 

**Tony**

_That’s not the first time someone’s told me that_ , Tony thought, then closed his eyes and slumped against Steve, their mouths touching. This was… new. This time, Steve wasn’t shocked and rigid or drunk and clumsy. This time, Steve _wanted_ to kiss him.

And now that he put his mind to it, Steve was a great kisser. The kind of ‘Oh shit, I’m hard as nails and weak in the knees’-kisser. The instant Steve’s lips touched Tony’s, he was _gone_ , and nothing in the world mattered except for the long awaited feel of Steve’s tongue delving into his mouth.

A whimper of repressed longing scratched at Tony’s throat, and he hooked one arm around Steve’s neck the next moment, leaping into the kiss with everything he had. Exploring Steve’s mouth with liberation that seemed too long coming. One of Steve’s arms wrapped around his waist to haul Tony into him, and Tony felt his warm breath on him, his heart beating against his chest and all those other things he had so long waited for.

_Please don’t change your mind again_ , Tony pleaded inwardly, brushing his nose along Steve’s as he slowly pulled back.

 

**Steve**

It was all a little dizzying. Steve was still reeling with sensation when the kiss broke. How had he ever thought he could refuse Tony's advances? It was so far from how he'd have dealt with this situation three years ago.

Tony's breath was hot against his lips and his eyes were closed. A furrowing of his eyebrows suggested a hint of worry and Steve gently rubbed his forehead against Tony's own. "You're a good kisser," he said, fondly running his thumb along Tony's cheek.

 

**Tony**

Tony nodded, more to himself, a studious look on his face as he met Steve’s gaze. They didn’t break apart, not really, staying close as their breaths intermingled. It was amazing how weightless he felt. He had shared kisses with a number of people, but it had never felt like this.

This was one moment out of many, but it would be one to always remember.

“If I’d known all it took was some state-of-the art, world-changing bionic arm, I would’ve put my mind to it sooner…” he murmured, grinning against Steve’s lips.

 

**Steve**

Steve chuckled at that and shook his head. "Don't be silly."

They stood for a moment longer, Steve interlacing his fingers where his hands lay on the small of Tony's back, keeping him anchored. He looked at Tony, and noticed the softness of his skin, the still-wary look in his eyes. It was amazing how many little things he could see now that he was really looking. Tony looked so vulnerable. Even though he’d lost his parents recently, and had a multimillion dollar company waiting for him… he still seemed so innocent.

"I'm not gonna change my mind," he said after a thought, guessing that Tony might need to hear this. "But I want you to understand that this gap _will_ make things difficult… sometimes. We won’t be able to make this public for a while. And we may not always be after the same things." He paused, searching Tony's eyes. "I'm just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. It might get messy."

 

**Tony**

Tony pulled back, but only slightly. “It already _got_ messy,” Tony replied, and managed a weak, hopeful smile. Steve opened his mouth, probably to explain that he was talking a long-term relationship and not their little back and forth, but Tony stopped him.

“Look, is there a single scenario running through that handsome head of yours which features me turning you down right now?” He leaned in again, tenderly brushing his lips against Steve’s. “I’m not deluding myself that this will always be easy, I’d just... rather enjoy the moment, right now, and not worry about things that haven’t already happened. Can we… can we do that?”

 

**Steve**

"Alright," Steve said after a sigh. He couldn't refuse that pleading, almost desperate look in Tony's eyes. He had an inkling sense that that in itself might become a problem one day, but right now, he couldn’t care less. "Alright," he repeated. "Let's do that, for now." And he leaned in again to kiss Tony more fully. Any minute they weren't kissing felt like a waste of their time together.

"So," Bucky's voice echoed in the workshop, making Steve jerk upright. He didn't let go of Tony, but still sent a slightly guilty look towards his friend. "Nice to see you managed to get your head out of your ass. With a head that big, I wasn't sure you'd get it done." He was grinning at them, and Steve felt a small sheepish smile rise to his face.

"Shut up, Barnes," Steve retorted, finally, regretfully, pulling back. He turned to look at Tony as he did. "Lunch tomorrow?"

 

**Tony**

Lunch? It took a moment for Tony to catch up, then he nodded absentmindedly, eyeing first Barnes then Steve, confirming his suspicions that Steve had shared at least _some_ of the news with his friend. And apparently, the guy was fine with it. “Yeah, sounds good,” he said eventually, looking back up at Steve. He still had his arms around Tony, keeping him near.

Tony knew there were meetings tomorrow, a bunch of them in the morning, and probably some introduction rounds with the science department later on, but this was his company, after all, or would be, once he turned twenty-one.

He would just make the time.

“You guys don’t actually plan to drive back tonight, do you?” Tony asked. “We have… I’m staying over at one of SI’s guest suites, the mansion needs some renovations before I move back in. Stay the night, drive back tomorrow?” He glanced at Barnes in question. “Besides, I still need to take your measurements. No data, no new arm.”

 

**Steve**

Well, going back at this point would be unwise, Steve reasoned. If he was going to make it to lunch tomorrow, he'd have to drive back all night, put Bucky at home and then drive out again. It made no sense. And he was lucky, he realized, that he was off work the next day. Still, it seemed a little impolite to impose.

"You're sure that'd be okay with… uh…" he asked, not sure who might actually object. Bucky rolled his eyes but stayed quiet.

 

**Tony**

Tony snorted. “I kind of own the place,” he said. “Not officially, but I will, in a few years, so…” He shrugged. “No objections.”

 

**Steve**

"Come _on_ Steve, it's already well past the kid's bedtime," Bucky urged when Steve still hesitated.

Laughing, Steve shook his head. Next to him, Tony opened his eyes, obviously ready to give Bucky a piece of his mind, but Steve beat him to it. "Never say that again, Buck," he commanded, then sighed. "Fine. It'd be stupid to drive back now anyway." He nudged Tony. "We’ll stay."

 

* * *

 

**Tony**

He took Barnes’ measurements in record time, saving them onto his private servers before closing all projects. Together, they left the workshop and stepped into the elevator. The guest suites were in the upper floors of Stark Industries’ headquarters, and while most of them were occupied today, they had two bedrooms each, so Tony figured they’d be okay.

“Uhm… I've never actually been here myself,” he said as the three of them stepped out of the elevator, “but my assistant told me each suite has pajamas and toothbrushes and all that, so… feel free to make use of anything you find in there.”

Barnes stopped at one of the doors, and swiped the card-key Tony had given him along the card-reader. When a click sounded, he turned around and met Tony’s eyes. “Thanks, by the way. Not sure if that’s going to work for me, but thanks for trying, that’s really nice of you.”

Tony cracked a smile, nodded. “Sure thing.” It was kind of insulting that Barnes thought it wouldn’t work out, but Tony decided to let that slide for now.

“So, there were only two suites free, but there’s… two separate bedrooms in each,” he explained, clearing his throat. “I’ll take the suite over here, and you can both have a room in the other—”

There was a low snort, and Tony didn’t miss the pointed look Barnes cast in Steve’s direction.

“Just saying,” Tony added quickly, glancing warily at Steve. “I, uh, didn’t want to assume…”

There was another chuckle from Barnes, followed by an eye roll. “Good night, love birds.” With that, he was walking into the room, and before Tony could say something, the door was already closing right in their faces.

Tony was still busy trying to figure out if that had been a ‘No sharing a bed with him until he’s legal, dude’-look from Barnes or a ‘Goddammit, don’t chicken out now’-look, when Tony heard Steve sigh and turn around, facing him.

Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead. “ _Alright…_ well, my suite has two bedrooms, too. No need to worry.”

 

**Steve**

"Okay," Steve said with a nod of the head. Bucky's look read very clearly that he shouldn't be wasting any time, but there was a limit to how much he could advance a relationship in one go.

If Tony had said there was only one bedroom left, he would have dealt with that, but he preferred to have the benefit of some distance—at least for now.

Leaning close, he kissed Tony's cheek, and then his lips. "Wasn't worried," he said.

 

**Tony**

Tony hummed appreciatively, leaning back in even as Steve slowly pulled back. “Good,” he murmured against his lips, one arm wrapping around his neck. It didn’t matter. Whether or not they shared a bed, kiss in public, or just held hands. None of it mattered, at least not for now. Steve had agreed to try this, and if he needed time to actually turn this into a relationship, that was fine. Or… _fine-ish_. As long as Steve wouldn’t let him wait for months, that really would be a little—

Oh God, he wouldn’t be letting Tony wait until he turned eighteen, would he? The thought alone was all kinds of horrific, and Tony would surely die of blue balls if Steve decided to keep him at arm’s length for so long… Okay, _deep, calm breaths_. It was just this night, Tony told himself firmly. He could be good for one night, and do this Steve’s way. And then they’d be dating, and there’d be more kissing, and groping, and eventually, Steve would let himself have this.

Even someone as bullheaded as Steve would cave in at some point, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the encouraging comments!   
> We love reading it all and we hype over each and every one of them!  
> Stay tuned for more chapters. soon.


	7. Seismic Wave

**“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.”**

— Auguste Rodin

 

**Tony**

Steve… didn’t cave in.

They were two weeks into the whole ‘dating’ thing, and aside for some serious first base action, they hadn’t done _anything_. Dating mostly included spending the day at one of their homes in New York or Massachusetts, watching movies, cooking dinner, or Tony working on Barnes’ bionic arm at his workshop while Steve spent the time doodling on the couch next to him.

It was all… pretty great, in Tony’s opinion. They were surprisingly good together, now that the drama had subsided a little and Steve wasn’t freaking out about the age thing, anymore. He'd even come to sort-of-like Barnes and his scary girlfriend-but-not-girlfriend. They were teasing both Steve and Tony about their relationship pretty much full-time, but with every joke, it seemed Steve eased up little more, and it didn’t take much for Tony to figure out that Barnes was doing that on purpose.

Dating a seventeen year old seemed to be alright for now, sleeping with one… not so much.  Or that’s what Tony thought was going on, anyways.

“And if… I vow to be very, very virtuous?” Tony asked, as he cuddled more fully against Steve’s chest, a happy shiver racing through his body. “My hands will always stay above waistline, pinky swear.”

They were standing in front of the guest suite that Steve usually occupied whenever he visited Tony in New York. Fingers entwined, they leaned into each other, with Tony standing on his toes so he could occasionally press little kisses to Steve’s mouth. The debate about sleeping arrangements had accompanied them for the better part of those last weeks, and they had spent a few hours dozing off on the couch while being wrapped around each other, but that was all. No sleeping together, in no way whatsoever.

By now, Tony felt like some kind of a celibate monk, well, minus the masturbation, but _still_. He _was_ seventeen. There was only so much his libido could take.

Steve on his part just rolled his eyes, as always, knowing exactly what Tony was up to, but the smile on his face stayed firmly in place.

What did he expect, anyway? Tony _was_ the younger one, so he might as well be a bit unreasonable. “Come on, at least let us sleep in the same bed, you’re killing me, you know that? I’m literally dying here.”

 

**Steve**

The look in Tony's eyes read as much plea as it did amusement. Steve laughed and shook his head, not letting go of Tony for the time being.

"You're not dying," he retorted, though he was considering Tony's request seriously. It had only been two weeks, but they've had plenty of time together—more than Steve had initially thought they would in light of the fact they were both employed one way or another in two different states. He couldn't deny the effect Tony had on him, even though he’d been adamant to wait with going farther than a little kissing and groping.

Clearly, Tony wasn't happy about having to wait, and Steve's resolve was starting to wear thin, too. How awful could it be to just let Tony into his bed and enjoy what he so obviously wanted? They were both interested, both capable of consenting. What was the problem again?

Tony being seventeen, a distant voice in his head echoed, and Steve sighed. He couldn't listen to that voice for much longer. Tony seemed downright desperate. And honestly, Steve himself was beginning to lose patience. He wanted to be the kind of guy who could resist the temptation he was facing, at least until Tony was eighteen, but he wasn't. He had no will to refuse.

"You better keep that promise. I won't hesitate to kick you out otherwise." It was a blunt lie, but Steve didn't mind telling it, since he knew Tony would likely disbelieve it anyway.

 

**Tony**

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Tony shot back challengingly. He really didn’t need to be told twice, and instead just grabbed for Steve’s hand and dragged him into the room.

The suites at SI were huge. The foyer housed a large sofa area and a spacious balcony. There were two bathrooms, and also two bedrooms.

Entwining their fingers, Tony led Steve through the small corridor on the left and straight into the bedroom. Usually, Steve brought a small duffle bag with him whenever he stayed over night, but today, they’d initially planned to drive back to Massachusetts, and only decided to scratch that plan when one of Tony’s meeting had taken up about three hours longer than expected.

After grabbing some pajamas for both him and Steve, Tony left for the bathroom. It did feel a little like a strange sleepover at a friend’s place, what with changing clothes in separate rooms, and vowing to keep his fingers from getting potentially inappropriate, but Tony would take what he could get.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Tony found Steve already lying in bed, and glanced down at the STARK logo on his pajama top.

“You know... I came to appreciate how good my name looks on you, Picasso,” Tony decided and sat down on the mattress with an amused grin.

 

**Steve**

"That’s a… strange compliment," Steve said, grinning back at him. The huge logo on the pajamas was going a little far, he felt, but whatever. "You know, I'm not half as good as Picasso, you're doing the guy disservice."

He patted the bed for Tony to join him. It was true that Tony had been using this nickname for him since the beginning, but Steve was slowly starting to worry about it becoming a long-term habit.

 

**Tony**

Tony snorted, and lay down next to Steve. With a raised brow to see if it was okay, he snuggled into Steve’s side, winding an arm around his upper body.

“What should I call you, then?” he asked, filing away the fact that he hadn’t ever seen any of Steve’s art pieces and deciding to make up for that, very soon. “‘History of Art teacher Steve Rogers’ is a bit long, I think. Are we ready for pet names? ‘Cause I got a whole bunch of them, _shnookums_.”

 

**Steve**

"Oh my God," Steve exclaimed on a laugh, wrapping his arms around Tony's waist. "Definitely none of that. Use my actual name. That'll work just fine." He tightened his hold on Tony for a moment, burying his face in Tony's hair.

He let the moment pass, but no longer than that, just in case Tony was going to whine about it. "If you must use a nickname for me…" He paused, wondering if this would be a good idea. Only Bucky and the rest of the guys from their company used to call him this, but… It would beat having Tony call him shnookums any day. "You might as well go with ‘Cap’."

 

**Tony**

Cap. As in _Captain Steve Rogers_.

Tony blinked as he realized that yes, he had read this in Steve’s file at one point, but he had tried to only skim through it, at that time, determined to get Steve out of his head and not lose himself in him even further.

It was a bit worrisome how the simple thought of Steve as an actual Captain could turn him on so effortlessly. At one point, Steve had been in military uniform, doing military things with military determination, all focused and combat-ready and uncompromising and…

Oh, goddammit.

Tony bit his lower lip, a little dazed, and honestly a little short-breathed, as he leaned up on one elbow, staring down at Steve.

“I’m young and very impressionable. You can’t remind me of that and expect me to keep my hands to myself.” His hand that had been innocently settled on Steve’s abdomen slid down a little before he remembered himself and dug his fingers into the pajamas’ cloth instead. Shit, he was hard, and firmly pressed against Steve’s thigh.

 

**Steve**

The change in Tony was immediate, and apparent. His pupils dilated, and the hot hardness that pressed against Steve's thigh left no doubt as to what was going through Tony’s mind. It would've been amusing, if Steve hadn't felt himself responding.

Tony's breathing was shallow already, coming in quick little bursts that caressed Steve's face. He didn't try to stop Tony's hand from moving, and while he appreciated the kid's restraints, he found it weirdly frustrating.

One of his own hands ran up Tony's back, safely over his shirt, and cupped the back of his neck when it reached high enough. "That's… unexpected." Steve was careful not to give any negative feedback here. It was, after all, good to have a few healthy kinks.

 

**Tony**

“Yeah, not really,” Tony shot back on a little chuckle. With a low groan, he rolled around until he was lying on his back, only one foot still touching Steve. “First time I realized I liked both girls and boys was while watching Saving Private Ryan, and that kinda stuck…”

He raised his knees, shifting a bit and willing his erection to go the fuck down. Only that thinking about a young Matt Damon really didn’t help his case much.

“Sorry, just... give me a minute,” he said, shoving a hand beneath the covers and putting some pressure on his dick. He really was hard as nails by now, and it was the idea of Steve in all his Captain glory that drove him insane, sure, but it was also just lying here next to Steve, with him sort of dangling in front of Tony’s face like some enticing carrot that he couldn’t reach.

Sleeping in the same bed had been a _horrible_ idea.

 

**Steve**

Steve stayed motionless for another beat before rolling onto his side and sliding his hand down under the covers to join Tony's over his hard on. He pressed close, allowing his own erection to rub against Tony's side.

His face was level with the side of Tony's head, and he leaned closer, his lips hovering right next to his ear. "Tony…" he whispered. "What do you need?" He let his own hand cover Tony's but was careful not to touch him intimately. Not yet.

 

**Tony**

Tony offered a whimper and pleadingly thrust forward. “Anything,” he said automatically, because at this point, he really wasn’t picky. Even just touching Steve, his own arousal be damned, seemed like a great idea right now. As long as he finally got to be near him, _really_ near him, it didn’t matter what they did.

He pressed upwards, rubbing himself against his own palm, knowing that Steve’s fingers were just a few millimeters away. He was relieved when he heard a quiet moan from Steve’s lips—the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in this made it all the more tolerable.

“Ahh,” he breathed, arching again, moving just a little harder. “Anything you want... I’ll do anything.”

 

**Steve**

"That's a pretty generous bargain," Steve cautioned, though his tone was fond. He let his hand finally take a good grip around Tony's hand, fingers brushing over his heated skin through fabric. "I'll take it."

The covers were pushed aside and Steve urged Tony to let go of himself so he could take his place. "Tell me if you need me to stop at any point." He was stroking him slowly. There was no turning back for him now. If Tony didn't stop him, they were going to go all the way.

 

**Tony**

“Oh, thank God,” Tony breathed, as it slowly sunk in that Steve was finally agreeing to do this. Immediately, he leaned forward against Steve’s weight and ground himself more intently against his hand. They both moaned, and Tony watched as Steve’s fingers encircled him fully, boxer briefs and all.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Tony raised his head to kiss Steve again. One of his legs wound itself around him and hauled Steve inward until they were pressed chest to chest.

Steve’s eyes found his again. Soft. Meaningful. And he kissed Tony with such tenderness that he both wanted to urge him on, make him go faster, but also to keep things slow so he could enjoy every goddamn second of it.

Tony’s mouth traced the line of Steve’s throat, while one hand finally managed to wheedle under the pajama top, stroking all the way along Steve’s ridiculously toned back. On his way down, he settled his fingers on the waistband of his pants, dipping inside a little, caressing the curve of Steve’s ass before retreating again.

“Can we have you naked?” he asked, and he’d likely die if Steve was gonna tell him no now, but asking seemed like the polite way to go. “I really wanna see you naked.”

 

**Steve**

"That's the plan," Steve said, grinding down slowly against Tony. The direct skin to skin contact on his back felt amazing, but more than anything it served to increase his need tenfold. "If you're good, I'll even let you touch." He nipped at Tony's lip before moving to kiss his neck.

 

**Tony**

“ _Touching_ ,” Tony echoed, his voice askance. He grinned broadly, nudging his nose against the side of Steve’s face and drawing his mouth back to Tony’s. His tongue teased his lips, doing his damnedest to drive him up the wall. God, he loved kissing Steve. “Real kinky.”

Steve laughed at that, heavy breaths rupturing through his chest, and Tony gave him a pointed look, eyes half-lidded. “Not sure how to be good here... Any pointers?”

 

**Steve**

Trailing his hands up Tony's body, Steve tugged his shirt upwards. He hummed when their angle proved to be getting in the way, and rolled them until he was resting properly on top of Tony.

Then, he pulled back so he was kneeling. "Shouldn't be difficult," Steve said, finally getting rid of his own pajama top. "When we're doing this, we're on equal grounds," he explained, reaching down to tug Tony's shirt up again, this time having better success with it. He let his eyes roam the newly exposed skin without preamble. "I take off what you take off, and vice versa."

 

**Tony**

“Fair enough,” Tony said, having half a mind to just tear off his own clothes, rendering all of them useless so Steve had to follow through with his little dare, but he was too busy _staring_. He only got a glimpse of Steve’s chest before his own shirt was dragged off him. Without pause, though, his eyes snapped back to all of that bare… skin… as soon as he could.

Tony reached forward as if in trance, the tips of his fingers running over a few light scars, tracing Steve’s ridiculous abs, flicking his nipples just to gauge a reaction.

Just as Tony had hoped, Steve gasped from where he was kneeling above him, thrusting his hips into Tony’s.

Tony smiled, both hands now running along Steve’s sides until they settled on his hips.

“Not so bad for an old man,” Tony teased, his thumbs skimming the waistline of the pajama pants, dipping inside a little, brushing through the coarse hair underneath.

 

**Steve**

Steve's lips curled up in a smile even as his sight hazed over with need. "Careful there," he said, tracing Tony's own body with a much surer hand, fingers lingering where he caught a favorable reaction. Tony's body wasn't as toned as Steve's. In fact, he sported a rather wiry form, which made Steve inexplicably more interested. He tweaked at a nipple, lightly rubbing it in a circle. "I get touchy about my age."

Shifting a little, Steve leaned forward, bracketing Tony with his own form. "Before we carry on…" He reached down, running his fingers over the back of one of Tony's hands. "I need to know two things." Because he needed clarity when asking this, and that was quickly slipping away from him.

 

**Tony**

Tony hummed, having a vague idea what Steve was going to ask. He licked his lips, both hands slowly running up and down Steve’s thighs. He could feel the muscles underneath the silky pajama material, and it was a bit hard to focus. “And what would that be?”

 

**Steve**

Closing his eyes, Steve stilled himself with a breath. He wouldn't get jealous about this, he told himself. Tony was seventeen, and likely not a virgin, but he had to ask, didn't he? It was just practical. "First: Have you done this before?"

 

**Tony**

Swallowing, Tony managed not to glance away, but it was a close call. He’d been asked that question before, a few times actually, and every time, his answer had been that _no_ , he hadn’t done that before, this was his first time, of course it was, and could whoever-he’d-been-with please show him how things worked, thanks very much.

Truth was, he’d probably done this a little bit too often, and he _could_ be saying that it had everything to do with his parents’ passing, and Obi’s constant pressure, and the fact that no one seemed to get how fucking lost he was. All of that was true, in some way or the other, but at the end of the day, it had been Tony’s own decision to distract himself with booze and sex. And the only reason it hadn’t gone beyond that had always been Rhodey.

Rhodey… and now Steve.

And Tony found he didn’t want to lie to him, too.

“I… yeah,” Tony said, and fought the urge to cast Steve an apologetic smile. It wasn’t exactly something he had to be sorry for, he just hoped Steve wouldn’t mind. “I did.”

 

**Steve**

Heedless of how Tony might've wanted to come across, he just seemed… vulnerable. Worried, probably, that Steve might be upset about this. He wasn't—not really. Steve pressed down a little against him, rubbing their bodies together, as if to show that he was still interested and that it was okay. He leaned down to kiss him again, a light touch of lips. "Good," he said, nuzzling his cheek. "So you know how you want to do this." It wasn't a question for now, but Steve figured he'd put it out there for Tony to chew on and come to a conclusion by the time it became relevant.

"My second question," he said then, pulling back so he could see Tony's face more clearly. "Do we have condoms and lube with us? I…" He smiled ruefully. "I wasn't expecting us to get here so soon." _But you should have_ , he thought. Dating a teenager should've made him more cautious, but that wasn't something to dwell on right now.

 

**Tony**

A sigh of relief coursed off Tony’s shoulder, his smile broadening as Steve took the information in stride and just went on with his agenda. At one point, he’d tell him of those first years at MIT, his parents, and all of the other shit he’d gone through, but not now.

“Soon,” he shot back, wiggling his brows in mock-question. “Only you would call this ‘soon’...” He huffed, moving one hand off of Steve’s thigh, moving it towards his groin and rubbing the bulge there. “You can think all you want but I kinda got lube and condoms covered the day after you and Barnes stormed my lab.” He grinned mischievously, pointing towards where he hoped his messenger bag was still leaning against the nightstand. “Front pocket.”

 

**Steve**

Steve buried his face in Tony's neck as a low groan left him. The pressure of Tony's hand against his dick was fantastic and insane all at the same time. He could barely hear his answer, but managed to glean from it that they had everything they'd need. How long has it been that a touch as casual as that was making him weak in the knees?

"Stay there," he said once he managed to recover some composure. He shifted off of Tony to grab for the bag and rummage through it.

 

**Tony**

Watching with rapt interest as Steve leaned off the bed, Tony reached for his own pants. He shoved both the pajama bottoms and his briefs down and away, deciding then and there that they’d done enough teasing for one night.

He grinned as he saw Steve’s ass wiggle a little with the movements and raised one naked foot to run it along one perfect cheek.

Steve huffed as he turned around, dropping both the lube and a condom on the bed next to Tony. Only when his eyes took in Tony’s now all-out naked form, he stopped.

“Tit for tat, Cap,” Tony prompted, hooking both arms behind his head and stretching above the bedsheet.

 

**Steve**

Steve didn't only stop. _Everything_ stopped when he saw Tony naked. Naked and giving the kind of feline stretch that looked effortlessly natural but could be an act all the same. The mental slow down that accommodated the time it took Steve to really take in the sight, marking down every inch he wanted to kiss and tease and taste, was the only reason he didn't move to get out of the rest of his clothes right away.

Once Tony's words registered, though, he heard himself laughing lightly. So Tony knew how to take advantage of the rules. That was good to know, too. Steve's remaining clothes were discarded easily, and he reached down to close his hand around his own erection. God, he was so hard, so ready for action, but there was still some time to go…

"So," he said, climbing back onto the bed and advancing towards Tony again. "What's it gonna be?"

 

**Tony**

_Huh?_ Tony’s mind supplied helpfully, as he took in Steve’s form. He was… every bit as gorgeous as Tony had imagined he would be. This was how it had started, with Tony appreciating the way Steve’s always-a-little-too-tight shirts hugged his chest, or the way his arms flexed whenever he’d carried the new lab equipment around the room. It had been a physical attraction for a whole long while, but now that Tony finally got to see him in the nude, well...

Alright, he was doing an inner happy dance on having scored a man as hot as Steve, all blood rushing south embarrassingly fast. But the need to simply be near him, sharing this with him now and getting to know him even better after was… more important than just sex.

And that was most definitely a first for him.

Reaching for Steve, clasping the hand around his, he dragged Steve back on top of him. The first contact of their dicks brushing along another was heavenly and Tony groaned as he wound one leg around Steve’s hips to draw him even nearer.

A cheeky smile crossed Tony’s face, and he brushed a kiss against Steve’s lips. “Did I mention I don’t do bottoming?” he asked, then snorted as Steve’s expression just kind of… fell. He tried not to let it show, but couldn’t hide his obvious surprise.

Tony didn’t mind. He knew he looked every bit the twink cliché. And he really did enjoy it.

“Joke, Steve,” he said, chuckling as he leaned up to kiss him again. “Just joking. Can’t wait to have you inside me.”

 

**Steve**

Rolling his eyes, Steve leaned into the kiss. Obviously Tony'd joke about it, and Steve couldn't bring himself to really mind at the moment. He had Tony's entire naked body splayed under him, hot skin against hot skin. All he wanted was to move things forward.

"Me neither," he said truthfully, then pulled a little back, letting his eyes roam Tony's form. It was amazing how sexy he was, how much of a turn on just seeing him sprawled under Steve could be. "You're amazing," he whispered, then reached for the lube and condoms. Making quick work of opening the box and removing one foil pack, Steve tossed the rest of the condoms aside. He handed the condom to Tony and shifted their positions until he was settled between Tony's legs. "Alright?" he asked, reaching for the lube.

**Tony**

Shivers spread across Tony’s skin. He paused, glanced to Steve’s face again, then raised his knees a little and repositioned his rear to give Steve better access.

“Yeah,” he breathed, barely hearing himself over the rush of blood in his head. He gasped at the first touch of Steve’s finger, then closed his eyes when he slowly pushed the digit inside. The following minutes were a steady flow of moans and grunts, of erratic movements of his hips, and fingers that were clawing at the sheets beneath him.

Tony was mesmerized by how right all of this felt, and he wanted to give Steve back just a sliver of the pleasure he’d already given him. Steve’s fingers were coaxing endless groans through Tony’s lips as his hips thrust forward over and over again.

“‘m good,” Tony mumbled at one point, getting a bit impatient as he tugged Steve close.

 

**Steve**

It struck Steve that Tony in bed was an experience to be had with all the senses. Tony responded to even the lightest shift in touch, squirmed and sighed, moaned at times, making Steve's resolve slowly crumble. He had two fingers inside him when Tony spoke. He contemplated the tightness around his fingers, deeming it loose enough.

"Alright," he said, leaning over closer. "Can you put the condom on me?" It was an open invitation, really. Steve would do it himself if the situation called for it.

**Tony**

“Yeah,” Tony said, blindly reaching for the small foil package next to his hand. Tearing it open, he leaned up a little, balancing his weight on one elbow while he rolled the condom over Steve.

“God, you have a really nice dick, anyone ever told you that?” Tony asked absentmindedly as he let his fingers trail along the hard length. In times like these, he really wished they could go bareback. Feeling all of that inside him with no barrier whatsoever would surely be an experience in itself.

He closed his hand around the base, before fondling Steve’s balls. Well, maybe some other time.

 

**Steve**

Steve contemplated answering truthfully. He wouldn't lie, exactly, but he didn't think it'd serve either of them if he said that he had been told that before. He hummed noncommittally and leaned in to kiss Tony, a strangled moan pressing between them as Tony touched him and teased him just so. When the condom was set in place, he pulled back, breathing gone heavier than just a moment ago. "Thanks."

Releasing his fingers from Tony's body, Steve turned to look down between them. Experienced as he may be, Tony looked like he might break if Steve made the wrong move. He knew that wasn't the case, but still felt it in his gut. He knew he'd be going slow for a while.

Adding more lube, now onto his condom-clad dick, Steve sat up, adjusted their position and pulled Tony onto his lap. He angled their bodies just right and started pressing in, eyes flicking between Tony's face and where their bodies slowly connected.

 

**Tony**

There were no words forthcoming, which was really saying something. When Steve started to push inside, all Tony could do was throw his head back and pant into the open air. It was slow, God was it ever slow. And Steve was being so goddamn gentle. He was thrusting forward, millimeter by millimeter, his movement delicate but torturous.

Never once had anyone been so… considerate. Tony wasn’t sure he _needed_ it, but just knowing that Steve cared enough to gauge every single one of Tony’s reactions before he moved further was…

To be honest, Tony didn’t know what to with this. This was unknown territory, and it left him speechless. He’d done his fair share of quickies, of fast, anonymous sex, and some of the guys he’d been with might’ve been a bit rougher with him than they probably should have. His one-night-stands had always praised him for being wanton and shameless, for doing everything they’d wanted, he… he couldn’t just let himself fall like this, could he?

This… this was too… _much_ and scarily meaningful and so… so fucking _slow_.

“You can go faster,” Tony all but pleaded, moving his hips down to take Steve all the way inside, trying to regain some form of ground. “You can just… just take what you need. Whatever you want.”

 

**Steve**

They were finally pressed tight together, partially due to Tony's last move, which made Steve hitch a breath. The tight heat around him was maddening, and Steve had to admit that he did want to move faster, but that could wait. He wanted this to be the best experience he could make it for Tony.

Leaning over while making sure he wasn't pushing Tony's body into any odd or uncomfortable position, he let his face hover over Tony's. "What do _you_ want?" he asked, trailing a hand along Tony's stomach, knuckles first but the touch light all the same.

 

**Tony**

Instead of giving an answer, Tony leaned up. In cases like these, there was usually no better answer than grasping a handful of hair and tugging someone down to his lips, swallowing him in an eager kiss. His tongue delved into Steve’s mouth, a whimper clawing at his throat at the sudden movement it caused.

There simply wasn’t enough of him—Tony needed every bit of what Steve had to offer.

He had never been asked this before, and it was by sheer willpower that he didn’t go for an emotional retreat then and there. Only that when Tony opened his eyes again, Steve was still looking at him in question, and Tony was determined not to let his fears of intimacy rule him. Not with every inch of him doused in pleasure.

With a low breath, he forced his muscles to unclamp around Steve. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, probably more than he should. “Never had to know, but… this is good…” The faint feeling of discomfort had faded almost instantly, and the only thing left was Steve, thick and large inside him. “You feel so good.”

 

**Steve**

The implication was staggering, making Steve swallow once to push back the thought. Tony didn't need his protective streak right now, it would serve no purpose. Instead, he made a shallow motion, pressing tighter against him.

"Then let's do this for a bit," he suggested, pulling slightly out before sinking back in, slow, steady motion, easy to predict and anticipate. "If you need anything, just say the word."

Steve was in no hurry to get either of them off. He was enjoying the moment. Tony's warmth, his slightly sweaty skin, the smell of lube and latex and sex, and the sound of Tony's voice as he moved in a steady, slow pace, all contributed to this sense of rightness that Steve was feeling. The hand at Tony's stomach moved to allow his fingers to trace along Tony's dick.

 

**Tony**

Steve was regarding him for long moments, his movements led by quiet reserve—as though Tony was precious and fragile, rather than expendable. The air around them burned with novelty and during those next minutes, Tony wanted to open his mouth to put an end to it several times. He wanted to tell Steve that he didn’t need him to hold back, that he didn’t need it slow, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Instead, the slow glide of Steve and the feather-light touches on his cock had the room spinning. _Instead_ , Tony kissed Steve whenever he could, and simply moved with him. _Slow_ was… something else entirely. It was hot and slick and soft groans and trembling limbs. They were rolling and pushing against one another like oil and vinegar, moving in tandem as their climaxes built. Every time Steve pulled back, Tony moved to slide down the length of him, rolling his hips until their bodies were touching again. And all the while, Steve stayed safe and steady on top of him, his cock throbbing inside Tony, while he kissed him so sweetly he could cry.

“Please… ‘m close,” Tony whined, eventually overcome with the need for release. He shoved both feet against Steve’s ass, his knees drawn up as far as they would go, pressing Steve harder against him on each thrust. He gave his own movements more momentum, slapping his hips against each downward stroke, and groaning whenever Steve hit his sweet spot.

“I didn’t think it’d feel like this,” Tony mumbled into the air, voice hoarse, his hands sliding under Steve’s shoulders. “Didn’t think it could feel this good.”

 

**Steve**

Feeling Tony's desperation in more than one sense, Steve responded to his request with a quickening of the pace and deeper thrusts—not much of either, just enough. He let his skimming fingers finally take hold of Tony's cock, stroking him in time with their motions as best as he could.

Tony's words were as reassuring as they were painful. Steve's chest swelled with the knowledge he was making Tony feel good but at the same time a part of him wanted to treasure him forever, so he'd never have to wonder if his wishes would be heard in bed.

Burying his face in Tony's neck, Steve hastened the pace just a little more, following the telltale hints in Tony's voice and the way he moved, until the tension was unbearable, and when Tony finally climaxed it was beyond what Steve could contain, and he followed suit. The rippling muscles around him and the all-but-writhing form under him were all the incentive he could ever hope for.

 

**Tony**

When the world came crashing back, their mingled pants were coloring the air and they were curled together in a twist of limbs. Tony realized belatedly that his feet and hands were still digging hard into Steve’s body, his thighs cradling him, holding Steve near as Tony’s eyes slowly cleared and he remembered himself and let loose a little.

Goddammit… How he had ever thought that he’d enjoyed sex before was beyond him. He had no idea how long they stayed like this, with Tony breathing hard, his face buried in Steve’s shoulder. “No regrets, right?” Tony murmured, his forehead pressed against Steve’s damp skin, willing his words to be true.

 

**Steve**

As soon as Tony loosened his grip on him, Steve moved to carefully pull out. He didn't move away, though, enjoying the proximity they shared and the quiet that was common in those moments right after sex. But then Tony spoke, which made Steve lift his head and look at him with mild surprise.

"Of course not," he said, trying to keep the statement from coming out forceful. "And you?" It was a strange thing to ask, he mused. He rarely found himself tumbling into bed with someone without being a hundred percent sure he wanted to be there.

 

**Tony**

“No,” Tony agreed with a pleased hum, feeling Steve’s words settling inside him like a warm sip of coffee. No regrets, then. He could live with that.

He let go of Steve’s shoulders, putting both hands on his face instead, gently stroking along his cheekbones. The guy was unreal, all deep blue eyes and kissable lips. There were a few drops of sweat lining his brows and Tony leaned up to kiss each one of them away.

“You kinda ruined me for everyone else,” he murmured softly, “that... might become a problem one day but otherwise, no, I don’t regret any of it.”

With another parting kiss against his forehead, he leaned back again, taking a low breath. “And when I turn eighteen, we can… make this official, yeah?”

 

**Steve**

Steve was about to speak his mind about Tony's alleged future conquests, but held his tongue. He smiled instead and finally rolled off of Tony. Much as he liked lying there indefinitely, the condom was starting to get unpleasant against his skin and he wanted it off.

"Sure," he said absently as he made quick work of it. "When you're eighteen we can tell whoever you want." He helped Tony clean up and tucked the both of them back into their sleep clothes before finally settling down next to Tony's warm body, hugging him.

 

**Tony**

Tony’s mouth tugged into a tender smile and he nodded, wrapping an arm around Steve’s middle and drawing him near so he could kiss his shoulder. Ever since meeting Steve, his heart had been systematically sewn back together, piece by piece, and for the first time in weeks Tony felt the future was in his own hands again.

“Good,” he murmured, feeling the exhaustion spreading through every cell of his body. “Wanna keep you.”

 

**Steve**

It was a warm statement, unexpected as much as it was intimate. Steve closed his eyes and tilted his head before pressing a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "You have me," he said, voice almost a whisper that only the two of them could hear.

 

**Tony**

There was a long moment of quiet, then, “Also, I want an official thank-you-note for not calling you _daddy_ at some point.”

 

**Steve**

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve laughed, nuzzling into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys, this is the final chapter. There will be an epilogue coming up, soon, though (: Hope you enjoyed this so far!


	8. Conchoidal Fracture

**“Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.”**

— Pablo Picasso

  


**Steve**

_There was blood everywhere._

_Steve had reached the boulder cover first, with the paramedics and their appointed doctor hot on his heels. He heard the next whistle just as the three of them slid behind the cover of the large rock, and they all dropped to the sand in wait of another shell. The explosion this time was just as loud as the first had been, but Steve couldn't help but sense that it was farther from their location now._

_There was blood everywhere._

_Bucky lay motionless, almost entirely behind the rock cover, but it was clear he hadn't made it here in time. Steve hurried to his side, kneeling, and as he looked for the source of the bleeding, arms grabbed him and pulled him away._

_Enraged by the restraints, Steve started thrashing. He saw his troop's doctor tearing through Bucky's uniform and protective gear to get at his wounds. A terrible sense of premonition overtook him. He couldn't let the doctor do this. Something terrible would happen if he did._

_There was blood everywhere. So much of it..._

_Steve struggled, screaming and yelling and threatening the paramedics with court martial, with physical violence, execution. He couldn't shake them off, his legs tangled as he kicked, heavy with something he couldn't place. Bucky was going to die and Steve had sent him for perimeter duty today and it was his fault and he couldn't even go and stop the doctor from killing him and_ —

 

**Tony**

Tony jolted awake with a start. He sat up, staring into the darkened room, and was immediately aware of what had awakened him. There were sounds filling the space, tiny gasps, choked-up moans, and a steady flow of mumbled pleas.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together. If it weren’t for the distressed sound of Steve’s voice, Tony could’ve entertained the idea that his mind was just reenacting last night’s very memorable action, but as it was… it was kinda obvious that Steve was having a nightmare, and not a sex-dream.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Tony looked down at Steve. Both of his hands were clenched into fists, and he’d raised them defensively in front of his face. The sheets were pooled around his legs, and whatever he was dreaming about—the panic had gripped him fully.

“Steve,” Tony whispered, feeling all kinds of useless. This had never happened before, not since they’d gotten together—not since their first night all those months ago. Steve had always been very still while sleeping next to him, and besides a few mumbled words here and there, he’d been quiet. Now, he seemed to be one step from screaming,

Sure, this was their first night sleeping in the Stark Mansion instead of SI’s guest suites, but last day had been great… _spectacular_ , in more than one way.

There shouldn’t be any reasons for nightmares.

They’d started the day late, staying in bed and watching all those stupid cartoons on tv while having breakfast. After lunch, which Steve had been adamant to cook himself, they’d driven around the city, visiting all kinds of New Yorker tourist venues like Coney Island or Empire State. After returning home, and having a very athletic round of afternoon-sex, they got ready for the big party, which was—despite all of Tony’s fears—a pretty amazing experience in itself.

_Eighteen_. There it was, the big number. And for a whole day, he’d gotten to kiss Steve whenever and wherever he’d wanted to. It had been perfect. The perfect birthday.

Which made it all the harder to see Steve like this now.

“Steve,” Tony said again, a little louder now. “Come on, you gotta wake up.”

The only reaction he got was Steve furrowing his brows even more. A soft little whine of fear and frustration left his throat—a sound that sent chills all the way through Tony’s body.

“Never wake someone from a nightmare,” Tony mumbled to himself, even as he cautiously raised a hand to put it onto Steve’s shoulder. He _had_ to wake him up, though, there really was no way around it. Tony glanced warily at Steve’s fisted hands and tried to decide upon the method that was least likely to gain him a black eye.

“Steve,” Tony said in a hopefully soothing but firm tone. “Wake up.” He reached for Steve’s hands, and tried to gently pull them towards his chest.

 

**Steve**

Steve's eyes flew open and he threw his hands forward, palms open to grasp his attacker by the shoulders. He rolled them over, hands smoothly gripping at the offender's neck. _This is too easy_ , his mind supplied. He was panting, rage coursing through him. They dared touch him, restrain him—

The room briefly came into focus.

This couldn't be the desert. The light was all wrong, the sand under him… wasn’t sand. The air tasted different. His hands were at someone’s throat— _Tony’s_ throat. As soon as that fact registered, Steve pulled his hands back like he'd been burnt, rolling off him and sitting up, staring at him with no small amount of bewilderment.

Why was Tony here?

Steve leaned back heavily, his hands pressing onto the bed. It was… a bed. He was far away from that nightmare-scape. Things came into focus again, but slower, like he was wading through water. "What…"

 

**Tony**

_Ah, shit_. Tony let his head fall back on the pillow, one hand flying to his throat as he pulled in a huge breath. He probably shouldn’t have done this while leaning right over Steve, he thought belatedly, inwardly scolding himself for being so stupid.

His gaze slowly travelling back to Steve, he watched his bewildered eyes of crystal blue blinking, blank and confused. There was another choked-up gasp, and Tony deliberately tried to steady his own breathing, to regain control of his racing adrenaline. “All good,” he said, gulping in a deep draught of air. “That was stupid, sorry. You okay?”

 

**Steve**

Steve stared at him, still panting. Was he okay? He shook his head, looked at his hands. How could he do something like that? This sort of thing had never happened before.

_That's 'cause there was never anyone to wake you up_ , he reminded himself. Swallowing painfully, he clenched his fists and looked back at Tony, still lying motionless on the bed. God… He could've really hurt him, had been ready to…

"I'm…" he said, shaking his head again. "I'm sorry."

_Was_ he okay? He couldn't answer that question yet. Even if he said he wasn’t, what good would it do? Nightmares were just a part of his life, and Tony had no way to help that.

 

**Tony**

Tony hummed, his breathing slowly going back to normal. His throat felt a little tender from where Steve had grabbed him, but it _wasn’t_ that bad, and he wouldn’t let Steve think so for so much as a second if he could help it.

Slowly, he sat up, moving nearer while trying to gauge Steve’s expression. When Steve only kept staring at him, Tony cast him a small smile and cautiously wrapped both arms around his middle.

“It’s okay,” Tony assured him with a soft tone, one hand reaching out to tenderly touch his cheek when Steve’s gaze threatened to drift away again. “It’s just me,” he whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss along Steve’s cheek. “I know the thing with Bucky’s still on your mind. You never really talked about it, which is cool, you don't have to, just… I’ll carry yours if you carry mine, okay?”

 

**Steve**

_He's only eighteen_.

Steve lowered his gaze, a slight movement, eyes set on Tony's neck. He forced a small smile onto his face. "It's… not something you should have to carry, Tony," he said, not unkindly, wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders, pulling him close. He didn't trust himself enough yet to pull him into a full hug.

His heart-rate was still working itself back to normal, and Steve closed his eyes momentarily. He focused on the gentle touch on his face, Tony's warmth, the softness of the bed under him. He concentrated on the fresh air, clear of dust and moisture-stealing ruthlessness, letting himself lose the sense of displacement. This, he decided then and there, would never happen again.

"Thanks for waking me..." he whispered, swallowing at the dull memory of the dream.

 

**Tony**

Tony nodded, holding onto Steve tightly, trying to give him some sort of solace. He knew, better than anyone, that nothing could be done to erase whatever memories were haunting Steve. He couldn’t change the past, he couldn’t make him forget, he could only stay at his side until the trembling of his muscles calmed.

All the while, Tony nuzzled Steve’s jawline, breathing into his skin and inhaling his scent. One of his hands wandered up and down the span of Steve’s back, kneading his shoulders whenever he reached them. When Steve’s breathing had evened out, Tony gave the smallest nudge, looking up at him questioningly, and with a soft sound, Steve let himself be pushed back on the bed.

“You can talk about it if you wanna, you know…” he said after a moment, reaching out to put his hand on Steve’s chest, feeling his heart beating beneath his fingers. Whatever Steve was dreaming of was likely not something Tony could relate to, but… talking helped. Or at least, it _had_ helped in Tony’s case.

“Had my own share of nightmares,” he added, leaning up to kiss Steve’s neck. “I’m not gonna break.”

 

**Steve**

Steve nodded his head, to show that he'd heard. He had no intention of talking about it, not now or ever, but there was no reason to say so. The thought of wading through those memories again made him feel ill and he gulped around the tension in his throat. He couldn't imagine what Tony's nightmares were about, but if it gave him as much grief as Steve's did, he may not want to talk about it, either.

"Maybe some other time," he said, running his fingers along Tony's arm. He didn't want to reject the obvious attempts at helping him, but Steve felt the only help he really needed at the moment was some peace and quiet, and the reassurance that Tony was here with him despite what'd happened. He tried to smile, and found that he could. It didn't even waver as he glanced at Tony's face. "You're taking this better than I am," he admitted, turning to kiss his forehead.

 

**Tony**

Tony shrugged. “It’s not exactly something you can control,” he said quietly, then grinned up at Steve. “Next time, I’m gonna wake you with a pole, though…”

 

**Steve**

That made Steve laugh. He shook his head and pulled Tony closer against his side, feeling a little better for having laughed. Tony had a way of making things brighter.

"Wouldn't blame you if you did."

 

**Tony**

There was the hint of a smile on Steve’s face, and while his expression was still tense, he seemed calmer already. “Hey,” Tony murmured, leaning up a bit, and looking right into Steve’s eyes. He traced a finger along his cheekbone, and along his lower lip. “I’m good, and I’m not gonna go anywhere, kay?” He furrowed his brows. “I mean, when you love someone, it’s both the good and bad times, right?”

 

**Steve**

Steve's hands reached up to cup Tony's face, gentle and careful. He forced the thought of how he'd so short a time ago had these hands at Tony's throat, and instead pulled him in for a light kiss. When they parted again, he closed his eyes.

"Are you saying you love me?" he asked, aiming for a tease, though his tone sounded more hopeful than anything else.

 

**Tony**

Heat rushed to Tony’s face, and he stared at Steve for a long moment. They hadn’t said it yet, though Tony had wanted to many times. Yesterday at his birthday. Three weeks ago, when Steve finally got his PhD. Or… seven months ago, when they’d gotten together. He’d loved Steve for so long now, it seemed ridiculous he hadn’t once told him so.

There was no wariness in Steve’s eyes when he finally opened them. No hesitation—only warmth. And that solidified it. No going back now.

Slowly, Tony brought their mouths together. The kiss remained soft and all too short, and Tony pressed his forehead against Steve’s after. “That might… potentially… be the case, yeah,” he admitted quietly and a nervous chuckle sputtered through his lips. “That’s a first for me, so be gentle.”

 

**Steve**

"You know that I am," Steve answered, fastening both arms around Tony's waist now, to keep them close. He watched those beautiful brown eyes for a moment before nodding his head. "Guess we're in luck, since I feel the same."

He wasn't worried about admitting he loved Tony, but he felt a little like pulling him by the nose about it. And besides, it'd been pretty obvious for some time now. The admission only made it sweeter.

 

**Tony**

“Very lucky,” Tony agreed softly. He let one hand slide over Steve’s shirt, gently putting it right above his heart. The beat still a tad too fast, but strong and very steady. “Better now?” he asked, rubbing his fingers over Steve’s shoulders and his neck, stroking a line down the center of his chest.

Somehow, sleep seemed to be far away now. He just wanted to lie there, drowsy and content in spite of what had just happened.

 

**Steve**

"Yeah," Steve said, letting himself finally relax fully. He still felt terrible about assaulting Tony, but then, he wasn't used to being woken up in the middle of the action. Usually he woke himself up, much closer to the early morning, although a glance to the watch next to the bed indicated it wasn't really the middle of the night anymore.

"Just… If this happens again, keep some distance, okay?" He wasn't sure how to better keep Tony out of harm's way. "I don't want to hurt you." _Again._

 

**Tony**

“Kay,” Tony murmured, curling into the embrace again. He let his head rest on the pillow next to Steve’s, his nose brushing along his shoulder.

A smile rose to Tony’s lips then, as he ran his fingers along Steve’s chest. He could feel love settle within every nerve of his body, as though he and Steve lived under the same skin. As though a broken part of him was finally righted, and Steve had all along been the one person who could make him whole.

 

**Steve**

The serenity in Tony seemed unreal. How could he snuggle so close so soon? But Steve didn’t want to question it. He felt warm and loved, and dwelling on it wouldn't do any good, would it? He patted Tony's head and closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax and sleep, but it was soon clear to him that sleep was no longer an option for tonight.

"I don't think I can get back to sleep…" he admitted quietly, not opening his eyes.

 

**Tony**

“Yeah, me neither,” Tony said, burying his face in Steve’s shirt. One should think that the stress of the past weeks would catch up with him at some point. He’d slept fitfully, eaten too little, and been under constant pressure to get his projects done in due time to Obi’s crazy deadlines.

He wasn’t really complaining. Working in the SI labs was something else entirely, and he had done and created so many things in such a short time, it even made his own head spin a little. He’d invited Bruce over at some point, and together, they’d started developing some new gadgets for the tiny energy department that Stark Industries had installed but never really made use of to this day.

They hadn’t really made any big headway, but it was a start. And Tony had a feeling they were onto something.

There was so much left to do. So much to accomplish. With Stark Industries, with Obi, the board. He knew he was too young to really get things in motion yet, and that meant he had to be patient, something that hadn’t exactly been his forte, so far. But with Steve at his side, well… for the first time, he felt it was safe to take a proverbial breath and analyze the hurdles set in his path. To plan for all those little obstacles, and to… change things.

“Today’s gonna be packed,” he murmured. Steve’s heart rate seemed mostly back to normal, and he closed his eyes listening to the soft thumps. “Might as well grab breakfast and start early. Have a feeling Jarvis is already on it, either way. He tends to go overboard when I'm away from home that long. Fair warning.”

 

**Steve**

Chuckling, Steve shifted a little. "Sure, let's get the day started. I'm sure Jarvis will be happy for the chance to feed you." He slid from under Tony, careful not to jostle him too much, and stood up, stretching. He didn't care that he was naked now anymore than he did when he'd woken up from the nightmare. Once he and Tony had established that level of intimacy, he was relaxed about it.

Pulling on a fresh pair of underwear and then trousers, he turned to face Tony. "We're meeting your godfather today, aren't we?" he asked, trying very hard to not spit out the word 'godfather' with as much loathing as he had for the man. It wouldn't do to be disrespectful to the man so long as Tony had any kind of legal relations with him.

 

**Tony**

Tony’s eyes trailed up Steve’s naked body, half a mind to call him back to bed and start the day as the last one had ended. Before he could ponder how bad it’d be if he came in late to work today, though, his progression was halted by Steve’s offensive boxer briefs that concealed his goodies from Tony’s reverent eyes.

All right. No morning sex, then.

When Steve’s words finally registered with his hormone addled brain, Tony groaned and grabbed for the pillow, pulling it right over his face. “That _is_ today, isn’t it?” he whined, the words muffled as he spoke. There really was no way to tell how Obi would react to that particular news. As far as Tony knew, he didn’t even know that Tony was into guys. “Tell me again… why did we think it was a good idea to do this a day after my birthday?” .

 

**Steve**

"Because," Steve reached over and tugged the pillow out of Tony's hands, leaning over to grin at him. "We talked about this." He kissed him. "You wanted to be open about it, and I'm all for that. And it'd be easier to get it out of the way as early as possible." And Steve was determined to finally have a face to face chat with the guy.

That conversation he'd overheard all those months ago was still on his mind. He didn't trust the guy to treat Tony right, and less so now that he was an SI employee.

 

**Tony**

“Right,” Tony agreed with a pensive look. “ _Open_.” He kicked off the sheets, shamelessly naked and sprawling his limbs over the mattress.

He reached for Steve and smiled when he entwined their hands.

“You know he could be a real dick about this, right? Obi’s… not a bad guy. He’s just, I don’t know, conservative as fuck, a real hardliner. He doesn’t really know I’m into guys, so don’t take it personally when he’s throwing a fit. He’ll get over it.”

 

**Steve**

That was no surprise. Steve could imagine the guy would be a stuck up asshole. That didn't mean he'd take insults, but Tony didn't need to know that. Just seeing Tony's body language when he talked about the guy made Steve's violent urges struggle to the surface. No one had the right to make Tony this unhappy.

"He'd better," was all he actually said, giving Tony another kiss and pulling back. If he stayed close much longer, he'd get distracted, and then there'd be no telling when they'd stumble out of bed.

 

**Tony**

He grinned into the kiss, then scrambled out of bed. Following Steve into the bathroom, Tony took a quick shower, toweling himself off afterwards. When he looked up into the slightly fogged mirror, he met Steve’s gaze and smiled, and that look and his face—even while he was shaving off his non-existent stubble—was somehow full of both appreciation and pensiveness.

Stepping up next to him and grabbing for his toothbrush, Tony was struck with some weird feeling of domesticity. “So, eighteen,” he mumbled with a casual tone even as he jammed the toothbrush into his mouth. “We’re officially legal and boring now…” It was meant as a prompt, really, but Steve only hummed in agreement and turned his eyes back on the work at hand, letting the razor slide along his chin.

Rolling his eyes, Tony leaned forward, spitting the remaining toothpaste into the sink, rinsing his mouth with water. Only then, he glanced back up at Steve. “Since you love me and all, chances are pretty slim that you’ll leave me for someone younger, huh?”

 

**Steve**

A surprised laugh burst out of him, and he only had enough time to pull the razor away from his face before that happened. His free hand rose to his face, pressing over his mouth. It took him a long moment to regain his bearings after that, but when he did, he met Tony's eyes through the mirror. "No chance. You're stuck with me, kiddo."

 

* * *

 

The rest of the morning routine passed rather quickly, and they were fed and on their way to SI sooner than Steve had anticipated. He kept sending worried looks at Tony. The closer they got to the place, the more Tony fidgeted, and it was clear he was pretty nervous about the ordeal they were about to face. That was all the more reason they should go through with it, Steve thought, and reached over to put a soothing hand over Tony's thigh.

 

**Tony**

The highway was a gray blanket of endless wet pavement, shimmering with the light of the early morning as they drove towards SI’s office building. Tony didn’t know when it had rained, and either way, he figured it didn’t matter.

Only when he felt Steve’s hand on his thigh, Tony realized he’d been fidgeting and forced himself to stop. He put a hand on top of Steve’s, entwining their fingers and glancing at Steve with a reassuring smile. “‘m good,” he said. The look of concern failed to dissipate from Steve’s eyes; he clearly didn’t believe him. Tony sighed, shrugged. “I’m just… I think I’m finally getting somewhere with the company, you know. At least half of the board listens to me now, the energy projects are well underway, and he stopped nagging about his weapon’s projects all the time and only brings it up a solid… twice a day. Don’t want him looking over my shoulder again all the time. Not that I don’t want to tell him, I really really do, just… Obi’s Obi. Hard to tell how he will react.”

 

**Steve**

"He's running you down anyway," Steve said, looking away from him at last and surveying their surroundings. "He better not try anything funny."

The day was rather bleak, and Steve's mood mirrored it perfectly. It hadn't been the best wake up, and even after their chat and reconciliation, the day's task hung ominously over their heads. Tony at least knew Obi to some degree, but for Steve he was merely 'the guy who bullies Tony'. That wasn't a particularly good basis for any kind of relationship.

They arrived at the building shortly after that, and quickly headed into the Tower.

 

**Tony**

The elevator soared higher still.

As Stark Industries’ future CEO, Tony’s workshop had been moved to one of the more prestigious floors a few months ago and the atmosphere in the building had grown on Tony very little ever since. The place was clean, as clean as it could be and with each shiny white floor they passed on their way up, the knot in Tony’s gut drew a little tighter.

He knew Steve was holding back how little he thought of Obi, but whatever he’d heard him saying to Tony on that day in Bruce’s MIT lab, it hadn’t exactly left a positive impression.

“Here we go,” Tony murmured as the elevator came to a stop, a _ding_ announcing their arrival. He held his hand against Steve’s, prompting him to take it, which he did without hesitation. Together, they stepped over the threshold, and into the workshop.

Obi, just as Tony had predicted, already stood in the middle of the room, talking on his cellphone as he closely regarded the many blueprints lying around. DUM-E was slowly rolling back and forth on the floor next to him, his claw directed in the other direction, a clear picture of giving the cold shoulder—something he always did whenever Obi was around and it never stopped amusing Tony.

When the glass door opened, Obi merely glanced up at them; He nodded and held up a hand to signify his need to end the call. Tony nodded in turn, and steered Steve in the direction of the worktable.

There were a few photos arranged there, most of them of Steve, Jarvis, Rhodey, Bruce and Pepper, and Steve huffed in amusement when he picked up the _one_ picture that showed Bucky’s grinning face when he’d put on his new arm for the first time.

Tony was about to explain why he’d put up a picture of Barnes and his arm—purely scientific reasons—when Obi ended his call. His face broke into a bright smile when his gaze fell on him, only flickering to Steve for a second.

“Tony!” He walked up to them, thumping Tony on the back. “M’boy, didn’t expect you here so early after your little birthday party.”

Which didn’t really explain why he was in the workshop in the first place, Tony thought with an inward sigh. He knew Obi came down here often, looking at whatever project he was working on, whether or not Tony had given him permission. It was annoying as hell, to say the least, but Tony wasn’t stupid. Whatever Obi got into his hands here wasn’t exactly the interesting stuff.

It wasn’t the energy projects.

And it sure as hell wasn’t JARVIS.

“Well, you know what they say,” Tony prompted, “age makes you wiser.”

Obi chuckled, his fingers digging into his shoulder just a tad too hard. “It sure does.”

 

**Steve**

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Steve spoke, his voice much sharper than Stane’s as he offered his hand to the man. He may have taken a step forward, as well, to put himself between Tony and Stane, even if a little bit, but that wouldn't be worth mentioning. "I'm Steve Rogers. I understand you're Tony's godfather?"

It was better than the alternative, Steve reminded himself as he smiled politely at the man. It wouldn't do to show hostility now, even though he'd caught Tony's wince at the guy's hold on his shoulder. But if it bruised…

"Ah yes," Stane said, reluctantly letting go of Tony in favor of shaking Steve's hand. His grip was firm, a tad too tight, Steve thought absently, as he assessed the man before him. Large, and clearly of considerable muscle mass. Some of his size could be attributed to fat, but Steve paid that no attention. They were of the same height, so neither had to look up to the other, but Steve got the feeling this irritated the man more than he was letting on with that fake smile. "You’re Tony's little surprise, was it?" Stane said, glancing to Tony with mock question taking over his features.

 

**Tony**

Tony watched as Steve and Obi shook hands, both with pleasant smiles on their faces that didn’t actually seem all that _pleased_ but polite enough. For a moment, he pondered if beating around the bush would make this any easier, then decided that the direct approach usually worked best with Obi, and cleared his throat. “My boyfriend, actually,” he said, raising his shoulders in a ‘Yeah, I know’ gesture, and trying for a smile.

“Your _boyfriend_ ,” Obi echoed, and he didn’t exactly yank his hand out of Steve’s grasp, but it was a close thing. “Really, are we doing this?” he asked on a sigh, looking at Tony with an expression that was an interesting mix of disbelief, exasperation, and annoyance.

At least, he didn’t look disgusted or anything. Tony hadn’t been exactly sure how Obi’d react to the whole being into guys, and—

Obi took stance, his full height towering over him. “I know you got around on campus, Tony, and I never gave you a hard time about it, did I? I let you do whatever and whoever you wanted, no matter what the news called you. But now, you’re representing the company, and I told you, you need to finally grow a pair, this isn’t…” He trailed off, throwing a somewhat skewed apologetic glance in Steve’s direction, before staring back down at Tony. “No offense to Mr. Rogers, but we’re a weapons manufacturer, my boy. You really gotta stop with your little teenage experimentations.”

 

**Steve**

Steve lowered his hand slowly when Stane finally relinquished it. That Stane never even bothered to supply his own name showed how little respect he had for Steve, and Steve's smile only grew sharper. That'd make things a little easier for Steve if things deteriorated.

Keeping his breathing even, Steve clenched and unclenched his fists once, twice, then shook his head. "Funny," he said around a chuckle. "It's when people say 'no offense' that they say the most offensive stuff, isn't it?" He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other lightly as he spoke. "Do enlighten me, _Mr. Stane_ ," he emphasized his name. _That's right,_ he thought, detecting a touch of distaste on that round face, _I see you_. "What do you mean by 'grow a pair'?"

Stane regarded him for a brief moment, and Steve could pinpoint the exact moment the guy realized he may have been underestimating him. Too late. "I mean exactly what you think I mean, Mr. Rogers. I will not tolerate a _queer_ in my company."

 

**Tony**

Well, this was fun, Tony thought a little hysterically. Within a few seconds, Steve’s and Obi’s body language had morphed into ‘alpha male in fighting stance’, and this was clearly getting out of hand.

So much for ‘let’s introduce you to my godfather. It’ll be great’.

Looking at Steve, Tony probably shouldn’t find it more hot than worrisome, but age certainly had not made him any wiser, and Steve looked about ready to lay waste to whoever would wrong Tony.

Totally hot.

It probably spoke volumes that Obi’s words didn’t really hit him as hard as they probably should. Tony _knew_ Obi, had known him all his life, had overheard him and Howard talking and gossiping all the time. Obi liked to talk big, not shying away from calling someone names, but Tony knew he wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —do shit about any of this.

“Alright, that’s nice, really,” he said, giving Obi a firm glare for that last comment. “How about we all calm down a little. I wasn’t asking for your permission, I just wanted to do the polite thing and introduce you. Doesn’t mean my sex life’s up for discussion now, I—”

Obi huffed, and it was a nasty sort of sound Tony was pretty sure he hadn’t heard from him so far. “So you’re actually whoring yourself out to older men now, is that it? Goddammit, Tony, if your father was still alive, he’d—”

 

**Steve**

That crossed the line. Steve could accept anything— _anything—_ Stane might've said about him, but as soon as he turned his attack on Tony, there was really no way around it. He moved fast, and soon had two fist-fulls of Stane's collar in his hands, and he pulled him close, away from Tony. He maneuvered them around to keep Stane from gathering his wits until he had him pressed firmly against the workbench.

"Listen to me very carefully," Steve said, his voice lowered to a mere hiss. He knew he didn't have more than a few seconds to make a point before Stane regained his bearings and tried fighting back. That would make words redundant, and Steve preferred words to outright violence. "You will treat Tony with respect. Do we understand each other?"

Stane's thick hands lifted and tried to bear down on Steve's arms. Steve let go without struggle and took a step back out of the man's range, just in case. Stane looked downright ruffled. If Steve wasn't still hearing 'whoring yourself, whoring yourself, whoring yourself' in his head over and over again, he might've even found the sight amusing.

"I don't take orders from pedophiles—"

That kicked it. Steve hadn't even realized he moved, but the next moment his fist connected with Stane's jaw, hard. It was an uppercut. Steve could see surprise flitting across the man's face briefly as his head whipped back before consciousness slipped away, and Stane slumped to the floor in a heap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when we said there's only the epilogue left we actually meant there's 2 more chaps + the epilogue. DUH.  
> Hope you enjoy :>


	9. Binary Stars

 

 

**“Art is what you can get away with.”**

— Andy Warhol

 

**Tony**

“Sooo…” Tony said, hoisting himself onto the counter next to where Steve was sitting. Despite how very much things had not gone the way he’d planned for them to go, he couldn’t stop grinning. His mouth quirked upwards every time DUM-E made a pensive whirring noise, delicately dabbing an ice-pack against Steve’s red knuckles with his huge claw.

“...I think he liked you?”

Glancing over to where Obi’s knocked-out form was still lying on the workshop couch, Tony couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. This was just… hilarious, on so many levels. How Steve had gone into rage-mode and socked one right into Obi’s face about five minutes after meeting him… it was something that would be on Tony’s mind for a whole long while.

Well, it was probably also really bad because Obi’d be throwing a fit about this, likely trying to sue Steve’s ass, but alas… together, they’d deal with it.

 

**Steve**

Steve's eyes were set on his own hand. He'd knocked out Tony's godfather without a second thought, and he wasn't particularly _sorry_ for it, either. The guy deserved it, Steve felt, but he knew if it came to court, that excuse wouldn't really hold. He assaulted a man. What was wrong with him?

"Oh he loved me," he said, glancing at the still form on the couch. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled about the headache he's going to have when he wakes up, too." He sighed, and finally took the ice-pack from DUM-E. He didn't exactly need it, but it was a sweet gesture, and Steve sent a small smile at the robot. "Thanks."

He was in big trouble now. Assaulting a man as powerful as Obadiah Stane wouldn’t go without a price. Steve wasn't fooling himself that this rash, idiotic behavior would go over smoothly. "I shouldn't have punched him," he said, glancing at Tony. "Even though he's an insufferable asshole."

 

**Tony**

Tony chuckled, leaning in so he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “He sorta is, yeah. Told you he’s a hardliner.”

When Steve remained quiet, mostly just staring into space, Tony put a hand on his knee, lightly brushing his fingers against Steve’s. “Don’t worry, he will probably make a few threats and all, but he won’t actually do anything. It’s… at the end of the day, we both know that he needs me more than the other way around.”

He turned a little, brushing his nose against Steve’s jaw line and pressing a soft kiss on the skin there. “Sorry for that pedophile comment. He crossed a line with that one…”

 

**Steve**

Huffing a breath, Steve tilted his head, touching his temple to Tony's. It was reassuring. "He crossed a line with 'whoring', Tony." Still, minutes after the fact, the phrase circled in his head like a chicken looking for something to peck. Yes, Steve's temper had been tipped by the pedophile comment, but it was the fact that he dared suggest Tony was a whore that really got Steve in that punching mood.

"I just hope he doesn't sue me or anything…" He pulled back, glancing to the still form on the couch. It was a bit worrisome that he hadn't regained consciousness yet. a knockout shouldn't last this long.

 

**Tony**

It was sweet, Steve defending him. Tony smiled to himself, his thumb running circles over the back of Steve’s hand. There might’ve been a time when he wouldn’t even have bothered speaking up for himself, but he knew now that Obi had zero right to call him any names.

He also knew that Obi wasn’t exactly known for his smooth talking and empathy, and while he’d give him a hard time for that pedophile comment, he’d eventually have to work with him again. An intolerant asshole he might be, but he’d also taken over after his parent’s death, that had to be worth something.

“His lawyers are basically my lawyers, so I wouldn’t worry too much…” His words were followed by a low groan from the bench. When Tony looked up, Obi turned around a little, reaching for his head, and as if on command, there were short but firm clicking sounds coming from the hallway.

The glass door of the workshop opened and Pepper walked in, spiking up the competence in the room by about a hundred percent. She looked around, assessing the situation for a heartbeat, then cast Tony a long-suffering look. “So, ‘knocked him out’ wasn’t a metaphor.”

Tony shook his head, shrugging. “Nope. But he had it coming.”

At that, Pepper smiled, and it even turned a little brighter when she greeted Steve with a nod. “I’m sure. You doing alright there?”

 

**Steve**

Ms. Potts had that way of making Steve feel like everything would be okay. She had seen him often enough at Tony's lab that even if they hadn't told her, should've guessed. Tony trusted her, so Steve saw no reason not to do the same. He spared her a slight smile and a shrug.

"I'm alright, but I think you should ask Mr. Stane there," he said, gesturing towards the stirring man on the couch. All hell would definitely break loose any minute now.

Ms. Potts didn't seem too worried about it when she glanced at the large man and approached him the next moment.

"Mr. Stane, may I offer some painkillers? Mr. Hogan is just outside, ready to assist you in case you're still unstable on your feet. Can you stand?" She fired one question after the other, while Stane was slowly sitting himself upright and holding a hand to his forehead.

"Painkillers first," he said, holding out his hand without even looking at her. She opened her little purse and produced a pill, which she then set on his palm. He swallowed it dry, making Steve wince. "Now." He leveled a look at Steve through one visible eye, since he had the other covered with his hand. "Call Mr. Hogan here, and then call my lawyers. Mr. Stark is being exploited, and we can't have that, now, can we?"

"Alright, Mr. Stane,” Pepper answered with a sweet voice. “I'll have Happy help you out. Do let me know how you plan to go against SI’s lawyers." She got his attention there, and he his gaze briefly left Steve in favor of looking at Tony, then at her in turn.

 

**Tony**

“Excuse me?” Obi barked, staring up at Pepper in disbelief. “I hired you!”

Pepper cast him a very pleasant smile that looked much more intimidating than any real scowl could’ve been. She nodded her agreement. “Of course, Mr. Stane. And then you asked me to become Mr. Stark’s personal assistant and what can I say, the job grew on me.”

“And with ‘the job’, she means me,” Tony called over and on a low breath, he made to stand up. He saw Happy walking into the room, and with Steve and Pepper at his back, he squared his shoulders and stepped up in front of Obi. “Look, we both know my dad made sure I wouldn’t take over the company before turning 21, and I’m fine with you pulling the strings in the meantime, but don’t fool yourself into believing you can talk to me the way you did back there. If you ever throw the slightest insult at me or Steve again, and I don’t care if it’s homophobic or not, you’re out, Obi, and I’m not kidding about that. I know you think you had me wrapped around your little finger for years, but I really only indulged you supervising me because I thought there’s a lot you can still teach me about the business. And you did, in your own way, which basically means I won’t do half the things you’ve been doing in the future, so thanks for that.”

He fell quiet for a moment, letting all of that sink in and _whew_ , that was… liberating in a way he hadn’t thought possible. Obi’s face was a blank canvas, and Tony didn’t know if he was inwardly seething with anger or actually listening.

“What I’m saying is: you can work with me on my terms, or not work here at all, very much your choice. But try setting your dogs on Steve and I will crush you.”

There was a long beat of silence. Tony stared down at Obi and Obi stared back.

Then, Obi drew in a deep breath, and whatever protest had been there was apparently dying on his lips. He swayed a little when he stood up, but before Happy could get to him, he was already waving him off. He straightened his back and assessed Tony for a moment longer, before he made to leave the shop without so much as another word.

 

**Steve**

A full minute passed as the group watched the door after Obi had left. That had been an impressive speech, and Steve glanced at Tony at last. "That went… better than I thought it would."

"He won't press charges," Ms. Potts said, turning to him with a brisk smile. "I've worked with Obadiah Stane long enough to know at least this—the guy knows when it's losing fight."

Steve had things to say to that, but decided to refrain. Perhaps Stane was more perceptive when he cared to be. That wouldn't be surprising. "Thank you, Ms. Potts."

Surprisingly, she seemed flustered at that. "Please, call me Pepper, and the pleasure is all mine. I've been dying to give this guy a taste of his own medicine sometime." Happy nudged her shoulder then and gestured that they should be going. "Anyway, are we done here, Mr. Stark?" she asked, looking at Tony.

 

**Tony**

“We are,” Tony agreed and cast Pepper a grateful smile that she returned in kind. He really couldn’t love that woman more.

He watched the two leave, and barely held back a snort when Happy gave him a thumbs-up followed by a broad grin before walking out the room.

Turning around, Tony dropped down next to Steve. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest. “I have a feeling I just made my life a lot more complicated.”

He didn’t even want to think about all those thoughts running through Obi’s mind right now. Pepper was right, Obi didn’t fight wars he couldn’t win, but he was a sore loser all the same. And payback might be a long time coming, but Tony wouldn’t be deluding himself into thinking that this was the end of that particular story.

 

**Steve**

It made guilt bloom in Steve's chest, and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. If he'd been able to control himself and not jump to Tony's supposed rescue like a goddamn guard dog, things may have been salvageable, but as it was…

"What are you going to do?"

 

**Tony**

Tony raised a brow when he heard Steve apologize. He looked up and saw the frown on his face. With some awkward shuffling that had Steve chuckle, Tony managed to sit up, scramble for balance on the narrow counter top, and settle down—chest to chest—on Steve’s lap.

He gave him a meaningful look, then cupped his face with both hands. “There’s absolutely nothing you need to be sorry for. Obi’s an asshole, has been as long as I’ve known him. And what I’m going to do, well…” He took a low breath. “Can’t really fire him without splitting the board in half right now, and I need those people on my side if I ever want to push the energy business. So I’m gonna sit it out, play nice with him as much as I have to. I figure he’ll bitch about you for a while, but things will settle eventually. And when I’m 21…”

He grinned toothily, grinding down because the position called for it. “Well. My first official act will probably be letting you fuck me on my new shiny CEO desk, and then, yeah, I will fire him.”

 

**Steve**

Steve's hands settled on Tony's ass as soon as he got a lap-full of him, and he watched him with admiration as he spoke. He still felt a little guilty for making Tony's life harder, but it wasn't easy to keep that track of thought when Tony ground against him. And when he mentioned fucking on Tony's CEO desk, well… That stirred a reaction, even as Steve laughed at the audacity of it.

"So that's your five year plan, huh?" he teased, leaning in to nuzzle against Tony's cheek. "Wait it out, then fire him?"

 

**Tony**

A smile at that, and a hum in agreement. “Part of it, yeah.” He closed his eyes, revelling in Steve holding him near and pressing soft kisses into his skin. He loved this, having his lungs filled with Steve’s essence, and his warmth against his body.

“It also includes a trip to Vegas with Rhodey, making Bruce lose his temper for once in his life, and working up the courage to ask you to move into the mansion with me, but yeah, that’s the agenda.”

 

**Steve**

The admission was well placed, but Steve caught it all the same. He stopped nuzzling and pulled back to look at him, to assess how serious he was. The longer the silence stretched, the more Tony squirmed over him, looking mortified. Steve pretended to consider the idea for a long moment, until Tony seemed just about ready to say something.

"Did you know," he said then, casually. "That Pratt’s hiring?" The grin he had plastered on his face was telling. Even though he was only at the interview stage, he'd had a good feeling about it when he met the director and some of the staff. Odds were in his favor, he felt.

 

**Tony**

Pratt? Relief rolled off Tony’s shoulders. Steve could be such an _asshole_ sometimes. Of course, the mischievousness sparkling in his eyes right now was one of the reasons why he loved this guy so much, but _still_.

His words, however, brought a wide grin to Tony’s face, and a wave of giddiness rushed through him. Steve wasn’t only considering it, he’d already set things in motion.

Tony had planned to ask Steve for a while now, but only now, he realized how much he’d wanted him to say yes. _Needed_ it, really, even more urgently than he thought to. They had only ever managed to see each other on the weekends, and sometimes not even that, and if there was one thing he really wanted in the next five years—and longer still—it was to wake up next to Steve every morning.

“They do?” Tony asked, trying to mimic Steve’s casual tone and failing miserably. “What are the odds, I think with your CV you might be just right for the job, huh?”

 

**Steve**

The excitement in Tony was so tangible he nearly vibrated in Steve's arms. It was adorable. Steve's smile softened and he tilted his head, still maintaining that nonchalant air. "Who knows? PhDs in Arts aren't as rare as you'd think." He pecked Tony's cheek. "We'll see how they find me, and if that doesn't work out, I'll find something else."

Because Steve would move to New York sometime soon even if it killed him. He had to be closer to Tony, since driving out here every other weekend was wearing him out. Besides, Bucky was spending more and more of his time with Natasha, and it was getting cramped in his tiny apartment.

 

**Tony**

Tony grinned, his mind already on a fast track to the endless possibilities that’d come with having their own space. Staying over at Steve’s, with Bucky’s bedroom just across the hallway, had been… well, not so pleasant for all parties involved.

But now… he had Steve, Tony thought with something very close to wonder. He’d have him at his side, every morning. And if Steve let him, he’d wake up to that smile for as long as he could.

“You know what this means, right?” Tony asked, waggling his brows before he pecked Steve’s mouth. “We don’t need to be quiet anymore, no more shower quickies unless we want to… We can have naked-breakfasts, and pool sex, and…” He leaned in, nibbling at Steve’s earlobe, while he slowly began to rub himself against his crotch. “ _And_ I can blow you wherever I want to… ” He pushed one hand between them, massaging Steve through his pants. “And we can be so _loud_ , Steve. No need to hold back anymore…”

 

**Steve**

A breath shuddered out of Steve at the direct touch and the suggestion. Tony could say such filthy things sometimes… it made Steve so hot. His hands gripped Tony a bit tighter than would probably be comfortable for him, but he just… Wanted him so intensely, and so fast.

He should've known Tony's thinking would lead down this road, and wow he was lightheaded with how fast he'd gotten hard. Sometimes he was worried about keeping pace with Tony, but it never became an issue to this day.

"Can't wait to hear it," he answered shortly, his hands massaging Tony's ass deliberately. A blowjob sounded like an excellent idea right now, even though they were at Tony's workshop, a halfway public space—Steve didn't care.

 

**Tony**

“Me neither,” Tony breathed before leaning in and kissing Steve square on the mouth. He brushed his tongue along Steve’s lips, a small growl clamoring through his throat.

They were both unmistakably hard and Tony ground down with intent, rubbing himself along Steve’s length even while his fingers made feather-like tracks through his hair.

When he leaned back, Steve’s face was flushed, and Tony smiled at him. Sitting up a bit, Tony reached for his back pockets and pulled out his phone. Steve sported an adorably confused expression when he typed on it for a moment, but understanding dawned soon after, as the workshop’s glass front blackened out.

“I figure trying to play nice with Obi will forever be off the table if he catches me sucking you off in here,” he explained, snorting when Steve’s eyes went a little wide—as if it hadn’t been perfectly clear where they’d been heading.

 

**Steve**

Catching up to Tony's meaning was a little difficult at first, but Steve got it well enough. He didn't want any more confrontations today, least of all when he had a lap-full of eager, horny Tony, promising things that made his erection strain ever harder against the confines of his clothes. "God…" he whispered and pulled Tony in for another kiss. He wanted it so much but… Would Tony really go through with it?

"You're not really gonna…" he asked then, breaking the kiss and staring into Tony's face, eyes flicking to that wicked mouth ever so often. "are you?"

 

**Tony**

Tony chuckled, loving how much Steve already loved this, and gave him one last kiss, before he dropped back down on the floor. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

The height wasn’t completely ideal, but there was no way he’d stop this now. He jerked at the zipper of Steve’s pants, tugging them down over his hips. He nipped at Steve’s lips one last time, before he leaned down. “You want to be here. You want me. And you want me to do this to you,” he said boldly and didn’t miss Steve’s gasp when he slowly drew his head in.

His hand encircled the base of Steve’s erection, holding him in position when his hips did a little jerk forward. A small, confident smile stretched Tony’s lips, his tongue lapping at the silky head of his cock. With his hand, he pumped him steadily, his eyes drawn to Steve’s face ever so often, memorizing every gasp, every moan. He loved the way he whimpered, and the feeling of his hand weaving through his hair, tenderly massaging his scalp.

 

**Steve**

It was clear this wasn't a comfortable pose for Tony, but Steve found his dedication all the more attractive for it. His breathing was erratic and he was leaning back on one hand, feeling so lightheaded by now that he couldn't really bother noticing anything other than that incredible, wet warmth that teased him and took him in slowly.

"Tony…" he whispered after a low moan. It was a bit of a struggle to keep from thrusting forward, but he managed. It wouldn't do to hurt Tony while he was being so good to him. "So…" He tried praising him, really, but the best word he could find was— "Good…"

Tony's hair was soft against his fingers, and he moved in earnest, quick pumping motions that left Steve breathless. "Your tongue…"

 

**Tony**

Tony grinned, sucking him hard between his lips. He loved the taste of Steve’s skin on his tongue, and brought a hand between his legs to cup his balls. His mouth trailed up his length until only his tip remained trapped inside his mouth, his tongue exploring the sensitive dip there, moaning when Steve moaned.

When he drew him back in, he took him as far as he could, teeth just barely grazing his skin. The head brushed the back of his throat, and he knew by now that Steve loved it when he swallowed around him. He wasted no time contracting his throat muscles around his cock, humming at the throaty moans that hit the air right after.

 

**Steve**

It was too much. Steve was well past the point of drawing this out. He didn't even consider that it might be best to come as soon as he could, it just wasn't a thought his mind could process. His grasp of Tony's hair tightened—not moving him in any direction, just holding on, and maybe issuing a warning a split second before he finally climaxed, his hips jerking a little forward in aborted little motions. Tony's name fell from his lips once, twice, until he finally slumped back, spent and speechless. He glanced down then, too awed to say anything for a long moment.

"That… That was…" he panted, grasping for an appropriate word.

 

**Tony**

Tony met Steve’s eyes, his skin burning. It wasn’t the first time he was looking at a man from this position, but with Steve it was… vastly different. Watching him as he watched Tony, his eyes clouded with passion and love and a thousand other feelings at once, and Tony felt himself falling deeper into an abyss from which he never wanted to be freed again.

His tongue ran several laps along Steve’s cock, licking him clean, his eyes refusing to leave him. When he was done, he brushed a last kiss on the tip and straightened back up.

He cupped Steve’s face, leaning in a little, as always leaving it to him if he wanted to kiss right after. But Steve only smiled and tugged him in, no reservation whatsoever as Tony opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

“I love you,” Tony murmured against his lips, because what the hell, he might as well do this the right way, no jokes, no cute little innuendos—just plain love.

 

**Steve**

"I love you too," Steve answered without hesitation. He held Tony close so he could kiss him again, one hand curved on the back of his neck and the other trailing down his belly to the edge of Tony's pants. "How're you doing down here?" Tony had been so good, it nearly blew Steve's mind away, but he would never leave Tony hanging if he could help it. He loved him, and wanted him to enjoy this just as much as he did.

He cupped him then, eyes set on Tony's face, chasing any type of reaction he might get. He didn't want to be the only one to enjoy a good orgasm, but a lot of what came next depended on what Tony wanted. "Need anything?" he asked, leaning in for another kiss.

 

**Tony**

A breathy gasp left Tony’s lips when Steve touched him. He moved against his hand before he could really help himself. Half of his mind was still busy processing the words Steve had returned in kind, because while he’d known, hearing it for the first time—as cheesy as it sounded—was something to be memorized.

“Probably wouldn’t—wouldn’t stop you, if—Oh God…” His breath hitched when Steve rubbed him more firmly, and he let himself fall against Steve’s chest, barely managing to stay on his feet. “You’re not playing fair,” he accused him with a smile, closing his eyes as he felt fingers fumbling with his belt.

 

**Steve**

"I don't think a guy who up to a minute ago had my dick in his mouth has much of a right to complain about fair play," Steve countered easily enough, his tone a purr next to Tony's ear. He opened Tony's pants and pushed them to his thighs along with his underwear. All he needed was some room to maneuver, his hand closing firmly around the hardness he found there.

With his free arm wrapped around Tony, Steve held him steady and jerked him off in quick, familiar motions, and it didn't take long for the heat to rise to Tony's face, making him look a little feverish. It was such a lovely look on him, needy as he was, especially when Steve knew he was the cause of it. "You're so pretty…" he said, enjoying the little sounds Tony made at his teases.

 

**Tony**

Heat rushed to Tony’s cheeks at those words. He closed his eyes, leaning in even closer as his body spasmed under Steve’s touch. A groan left his lips at a particularly good stroke and he thrust into the movement, almost shaking with the need to come.

Steve had him in a firm grip, moving up and down relentlessly, and when Tony felt himself slipping, he clung to him with all he had, pressing a broken moan into his shoulder.

For long moments, he panted in recovery, trying to somehow get his bearings before he looked up again. What a picture they must make, both still dressed with their pants barely shoved down over their asses. The thought made him laugh, and when he leaned back a little, he glanced down at Steve with mirth.

“You and I, we’re going to have so much fun together,” he said, shaking his head a little at the prospect. They’d live together, eat and sleep together, brush their teeths next to one another, and go grocery shopping together. They’d do all those domestic things, and he couldn’t wait for it.

How strange it was, thinking that only about one year ago, this would’ve been impossible, and now… there were all these possibilities in their future, and Tony couldn’t wait to reach for every single one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Epilogue!  
> Thank you all for your lovely comments!


	10. Epilogue

**_Three years later_ **

 

**Tony**

“Because when our goal is to leave the Earth better than we found it, sometimes we need to take a step into the unknown.” At that, Tony smiled, and reached for the glass of champagne that stood on the speaker’s desk, raising it to the audience. “To Stark Industries’ Clean Energy Line. To a great Stark Expo. And to an even better evening for us all. Thank you."

The applause was instant and all-consuming. At first, only the press, the science department, and Tony’s friends stood up, but soon enough, the whole audience was rising from their seats and clapping their hands. Even the senior partners gave Tony a respectful nod as he passed them on the way back to his table. That was… hilarious in itself. Tony remembered the day he’d first uttered the words ‘clean energy’ in one of their board meetings. Remembered how Obi’s gaze had darkened and how most people had given him one of those ‘Oh, you naive little child’ looks that Tony had been pretty familiar with at that point.

But those days were over. For good. The new department was now officially introduced, the investors were lining up to throw money at the company, giving a nice closure to Tony’s first quarter as Stark Industries’ CEO.

“Not so bad for a whippersnapper,” Barnes said as Tony sat down at the table, tipping a glass in his direction. Next to him, Natasha gave him a small nod, and there might’ve been the hint of a smile on her dark red lips, which basically translated to her really liking Tony and being proud of his achievements.

Or at least, that’s what Tony thought.

Pepper and Rhodey both cast him wide grins, raising their glasses when he turned to look at them, and even Obi struggled for an approving expression.

“Well done, my boy,” he said, sipping his champagne.

Tony had a feeling that ‘well done’ wasn’t exactly what was going through Obi’s mind, but tonight, he decided not to think about that too much. After Tony had basically shut down weapon’s production the day he’d taken over as CEO, his relationship with Obi had turned… well, a freezing iciness of Antarctic proportions probably summed it up just fine. Whenever Obi had been involved in one of Tony’s project, they’d butt heads over it so bad they wouldn’t talk for weeks. It had taken Tony a good long while to finally man up and go through with firing him, but he didn’t regret it. Obi had gotten an obscene amount of money for leaving the company without causing too much public stirrup. He’d accepted, hadn’t even thrown a fit as Tony had expected him to do, and they’d parted ways.

It was sad, in its own way. But Tony guessed there was nothing to be done. Today was the first time they’d met ever since, and though the Antarctic hadn’t exactly warmed up, Obi had been fairly polite, even shaking Steve’s hand for about half a second.

Averting his gaze, Tony grasped said hand currently lying on the table next to him, and let his finger trail over the engagement ring there. “And what’s _your_ verdict, Michelangelo?”

 

**Steve**

Rolling his eyes, Steve took hold of Tony's hand and smiled at him. “You were great,” he said, reaching for a pitcher of water and pouring some for himself and Tony, and lifted it in offer. No one else was interested, so he set the pitcher down and looked back to Tony, thinking how much he'd grown over the past three years. He'd finally grown into that Van Dyke of his, his features losing some of their softness with the weight of responsibility and decision making that could make or break his company… And yet, he was still so beautiful it sometimes took Steve's breath away.

Most of all, he was proud of this brave step Tony'd taken with his company. Shutting down the lucrative weapons' division in favor of something more benevolent, and much more risky, was a step most companies would've paid a dire price for, but somehow, Tony had managed to sell the idea well enough for his company to stay one of the top ranking in Wall Street.

Steve lifted his water glass to take a sip, but before drinking, he shook his head, his brows pinching in thought. "Michelangelo, though?" He drank then, and set the glass down, squeezing Tony's hand lightly. "You're more the genius type than I am, you know."

"He really doesn't need his ego patted, Steve," Bruce called from across the table. The science professor was sitting comfortably next to his wife, Betty, nursing a glass of wine and wearing what Steve assumed was his finest tuxedo suit. Steve laughed at that, nodding his head. That was true enough. He recalled Bruce's indignant expression when Steve had told him about the development in his and Tony's relationship. They had gone to that same shitty cafe and Steve was buying. Bruce had seemed ready to high-five him.

With a chair.

To the head.

"That's not the only thing he's patting," Steve heard Bucky saying, and he kicked him under the table, making his old friend laugh.

"Bucky!"

"Cute couple, aren't they?" Natasha chimed in, eyes sliding from Tony to Steve and back.

Bucky chose that instant to wrap his arm around her. "Textbook romance," he agreed. “And soon to be wed, however the hell that happened.”

"When was it you met, exactly?" asked Betty, who was sitting next to Bruce.

Steve glanced to Tony quickly, his retort for Bucky immediately replaced with the more urgent question, and both he and Tony turned to her at the same time.

"Three years ago, at Tony's birthday party," he said, hearing Tony saying something similar.

Bucky and Natasha started laughing before Steve had even finished talking. They were already used to hearing that line, it was their usual whenever someone asked where—or more importantly _when_ —they’d met.

 

**Tony**

“Well, you sure make the age gap seem like a non-issue,” Betty observed, smiling at them warmly. Tony was pretty sure that Bruce had told her exactly when and how he and Steve had met and fallen in love, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it.

By now, the dramatics of their time at MIT was a well-loved memory, something to look back on and smile about.

Nowadays, their ages truly didn’t matter, and would do less so over the years, Tony was sure of it. Of course, sometimes, they wanted different things, or had different opinions, but that was _normal_. And however much they bickered and argued, they always managed to work through it in the end.

“We try,” Tony answered, pulling Steve’s hand up to his lips and kissing the silver ring there.

Soon after, dinner was served, and just before the fireworks started, Tony pulled Steve to the dance area. He led him through the throngs of people and out on the open marble floor, ablaze with the light of several huge chandeliers. The back wall to the right was full of windows, along with several sets of open French doors, letting in the cool night air. Beyond that, Tony could barely make out the outlines of the huge Stark Expo premises.

Directly opposite the main doors, there was a stage where the band was playing.

Tony hummed thoughtfully as he turned towards Steve, putting his hands on Steve’s waist. “This beats the shady club from back then,” he mused. “Though I still remember fondly how you went all jealous caveman-Steve on me.”

 

**Steve**

So far the evening was great. Tony was such a brilliant man that Steve could barely take his eyes off him. Every little gesture he made was so effortlessly elegant that Steve felt himself falling even more in love with him.

They got to the dance-floor, Tony standing close and holding on, and Steve wrapped his own arms around his waist, fingers linking at the small of his back and holding them pressed close. He loved holding him like this, it was intimate but still tolerable in public.

He smiled at him, feeling at ease."I did not go caveman on you, don't be ridiculous," Steve retorted, letting his fingers rub gentle circles into Tony's back. "You were just so infuriating…"

 

**Tony**

“Are you saying I'm losing my touch?” Tony asked, grinning up at Steve. The music kept flowing, and even though most of the other guests had already left for the large balconies, they started to move.

There was a sizzling noise, and suddenly, the night sky was exploding with light. The different colors burst in the air  and each was a giant star that was spreading its spikes, before it ripped apart and showered the ground with its sparks.

 

**Steve**

With his eyes set on Tony, Steve took in the beautiful colors flashing across his face, catching the contours and sharpening some features while putting others in contrasting relief. It was, he thought, a more breathtaking sight than fireworks usually were. He couldn't honestly say Tony was infuriating anymore, but then, he probably had not been rational about the whole thing at the time.

"I'm _saying:_ I love you," Steve said, unprompted. "So much, Tony. You're amazing."

Because Tony deserved to know how much he affected Steve, how much love Steve had for him and how happy he was that they'd managed to find each other despite the fumbling beginning.

 

**Tony**

Tony felt his cheeks redden and poked Steve’s side playfully. “You’re such a sap.”

He _loved_ that, of course. Loved that Steve never held back with his feelings, these days. That surely hadn’t always been the case, and even months into their relationship, Steve sometimes had had that look on his face, as if he wasn’t really sure if he deserved all of this.

But not anymore. There was nothing holding them back, not Obi, not some teacher-student relationship-restriction, and no law telling them they weren’t allowed to be as sickeningly and obnoxiously in love as they wanted to be.

And very soon, they’d make all of that official.

The cheers that erupted from the balconies were almost as loud as the fireworks that crackled, surely calling everyone’s attention. Tony used that moment to lean up and kiss Steve square on the mouth. “Guess you’re lucky I’m putting up with you.”

 

**Steve**

Steve rolled his eyes at that, even though he'd leaned into the kiss all the same. The look on Tony's face was just the right amount of pleased and exasperated, and Steve grinned at him, letting his fingers dig a little where he knew Tony was sensitive, relishing in the little jump that followed.

"You know you're head over heels for me," he said then, close to Tony's ear, before he pulled back to look him in the eye. There was genuine affection in that beautiful face, and Steve was so gone that he couldn't care how obvious he might be about it.

 

**Tony**

“I must be,” Tony conceded on a chuckle, tugging Steve’s head down to kiss him again. “Otherwise our little appointment next month would be kinda pointless, don’t you think?”

His eyes flickered to the ring on his own hand. There weren’t many things in his life that held true value to him, but this was different. This was something Steve had given him, and something that meant they’d share their whole lives together.

And that would be worth more than anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it guys! Thanks so much for your comments and thoughts on this, we loved each and every one of them.


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